In The Vicinity Of The Heart
by tjmack
Summary: Sequel to Lost In The Transition. It was a simple moment of time. One choice, one decision. The easiest she'd ever have to make. Her life or her sons. Yet, it was the one decision that ultimately took everything she loved away from her.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Yes, ladies and gents, I have returned with the sequel to LIT. It's okay to squee, I understand. Okay, so I started work on this Sunday right after the premiere. Mainly because after spending FOREVER thinking on what this sequel was going to be about, an idea finally made itself present in my mind. Enjoy this first chapter. **_

* * *

Regrets. Everyone has them. Some are small, things you ate or drank that you shouldn't have. Some are bigger, important things that you passed up on. Things you should have done but you didn't. Regrets are a part of everyone's life but some people have regrets that eat them up inside.

Emma Swan is one of these people. She regrets many things. Things like how she treats the woman that claims to be her mother and the young boy that claims to be her son. Part of her wants to be warm to them. Considerate of their thoughts and feelings, but a larger part of herself shies away from them. The solemn looks on their faces as the days continue to pass on by without her remembering anything from her past. It's all too much for her to withstand.

However, the thing that Emma regrets the most is denying to visit the man that is supposedly her father. According to the woman who claims to be Snow White, her father has been in a coma for the past five months. While she forces herself to remain a prisoner in her room, her father, Prince James, continues to lay in a hospital bed, unmoving. Not knowing about the time that continues to pass by him as he lays there.

She might not remember knowing these people, her heart lets her know that at some point it was indeed true. Every time one of them gets that heartbroken look on their faces or when she thinks about the man that lays unconscious in the hospital, her heart clenches uncomfortably. Tears shine in her eyes, and she once again finds herself locked into her room as the tears flow in a constant stream down her cheeks.

She has lost track of how many nights she's cried herself to sleep over the past five months, but she's nearly certain that it would be a high percentage. There was only one person that she was able to confide in, and she wasn't even entirely sure why. It might be his easy-going attitude, the fact that he doesn't force her to attempt to uncover a memory, or just the fact that he's there for her.

"Hey."

Emma found herself smiling up at the intruder that she hadn't heard enter her room. The scruffy beard that covered the lower half of his face was darkening each day that past. His blue eyes were piercing her's, as he smiled back. If she really allowed herself, Emma was fairly certain that she could fall in love with this man. His giving heart and the way that he was with her _son_. She closed her eyes for a moment to try to keep the depressing thoughts at bay, at least for one night.

"How did you get in?" Emma asked, her eyebrow raised slightly.

His smile only grew larger. "Your mother let me in. We go way back."

Emma scooted over on her bed, and patted the now empty portion. As he sat down next to her, she sighed. He placed his arm around her shoulders, but didn't draw her into his side. "Emma, talk to me."

She looked up at him from the corner of her eyes. "I feel like I'm letting them down by not remembering. I see how they look at me everyday. How they're always showing me things from my past, and I know that all they really want is for me to remember. God knows, that's what I want to. I hate feeling like this. Like there everything is familiar, but it's just out of my grasp of knowing why. Everyday I don't remember, is one more day I cannot get back."

He sighed, and drew her in closer. He knew that it was a toss up of how she would handle it. Sometimes she welcomes the comfort easily, and sometimes it causes her to retreat back into her newly built, silver fortress. His eyes closed, and he sighed contently when she didn't pull away. Her aminsea was hard on all of them. He had tried to talk to Snow and Henry about not pushing Emma quite so hard, and he knew that they were trying. It was just so hard, to have her there, but for her to be so far out of reach.

He placed his lips to the side of her head, and his heart nearly jumped into his throat when she sighed contently at the touch of his lips to her head.

"Graham." It was merely a whisper, but he heard it clear as day.

"Yes, Emma?"

She pulled away from him slightly, the tears in her eyes made his heart ache. "Will you stay with me tonight? I really don't want to be alone tonight."

Graham merely nodded, as he pulled back her blankets and let her climb in. She patted the empty space in front of her, and waited for him to climb in. Laying on his back, Graham smiled softly as she laid her head on his chest. In a matter of minutes her breathing had evened out, and Graham sighed softly before his eyes started their downward descent, and he too was overtaken by sleep.

* * *

Snow stared intently at the slightly worn photo that sat on the kitchen table. A lukewarm mug of hot cocoa sat beside her, barely touched, as tears streamed down her cheeks and collected in a puddle on the table.

Her fingers brushed against the family portrait that they had managed to get taken. They all wore smiles, as Henry was squashed in-between Emma and her mother. It was one of Snow's favorite memories. That day in general. Though it had been after Emma's accident, it was before everything started to fall apart. Before Baelfire returned to town, and turned everything on it's axis.

James was still in a coma, though the doctor is certain that he will wake up. The words _its just a matter of time, _run on a loop through Snow's head everyday. She visits with him every single day, sometimes it's for hours at a time and other days it's just for a few minutes. It really more depends on Henry. The poor boy has been through so much, and seen his fair share of heartbreak, but the look on his face when his mother practically looks right through him. It breaks Snow's heart every single time.

The first couple of months after the _incident_, Henry had become withdrawn. He slept much more than what was normal for the generally happy and easy-spirited young boy. He was often sad, and she had found him crying alone in her bedroom.

Since Emma was having a hard time adjusting to life with amnesia, Snow had moved Henry into her room. It was in an effort to make sure that everyone was more comfortable, but it appeared to backfire greatly. Snow had hoped after a couple of months, even with Emma's memory not returning, that Emma would become more comfortable with them. That she could at least acknowledge her son, the person that she had risked her life so hastily for to begin with, but that moment hadn't come.

Instead, Snow found herself consoling Henry more and more everyday that passed and Emma continued to hideaway most of her days in her room. Occasionally slipping downstairs to eat. The only person that Snow saw Emma connect with was Graham, and if Snow was being honest, that had really hurt her. Her daughter was supposed to connect with her mother, even if she didn't remember who she was. Yet, here she was sharing her worst fears with a man that they all had once thought to be dead.

Graham had spoken to her a few days ago about why it was that Emma felt so comfortable with him. It was a conversation that she found that fluttered through her mind at times like this.

"_You have to be more patient with her, Snow." His voice wasn't forceful by any stretch of the imagination. His face was drawn, and Snow could see that he hadn't been sleeping much if any at all since Emma had been released from the hospital. Graham didn't have a place to live since he **magically** reappeared in Storybrooke, so Snow had offered him the couch downstairs. She felt bad that she didn't have an extra room or bed for him to sleep in. She too, had slept on that couch before. Comfort was not something that it offered. _

"_I have been patient!" Snow tried to not raise her voice. Both, Emma and Henry, were asleep. Tonight had been a hard night for Henry. He had stumbled onto a photo of him and Emma, both grinning widely, and the poor boy had cried himself into a fitful sleep. _

_Graham sighed, as he slid into a chair at the kitchen table. He shook his head. "It's the looks. They put her on edge. Like your just waiting for her to snap her fingers and have her memory back." He saw the look that Snow was giving him, which caused him to frown. "Those were her words, not mine." _

_Snow nodded. It definitely sounded like something Emma would say. "I can't help how I look at her, and I definitely can't help how Henry looks at her. She is his mother, and I know she doesn't remember him, but she isn't even trying, Graham. It kills me. All he wants is his mother, and she isn't even trying to see it from his point of view. He watched as the life literally drained from her body. He was there when she stopped breathing, Graham." She sighed, as a tear slipped down her cheek. "I think he blames himself." _

_Graham's eyebrow pinched at her words. "How in the world is it Henry's fault?" His voice was full of concern. He had known that Henry hadn't been dealing well with his family's current circumstances, not that he blamed Henry. Most days, Graham isn't even sure how to deal with it. Though, he does try his best to keep his poker face in place whenever he's around Emma. She was skittish before her amnesia, and that part of her personality was only intensified by not knowing the people around her. _

"_I think that he thinks there was something he could have done." Snow exhaled loudly, as her head fell against her arms. "All I know, is I'm exhausted. I don't mind taking care of Henry, I really don't. He's my grandson, and I will do anything I can for him. I just can't handle all of it anymore, Graham. I feel like I have to leave the house at least a few times a day so that she will come out of her room to eat. When she does come down when we're home, she barely glances at us before she scampers back off to her room." _

_Graham nodded, as he reached out a hand. He gripped Snow's hand tightly. "I understand. I'll talk to her." _

_Snow felt her eyes fill with tears. "The worst-" Her voice cracked. "Is that she refuses to visit her father." _

_Graham's head lowered, as tears threatened to fall from his eyes as well. "That I have talked to her about. She's beating herself up over it." Snow glanced at him, and saw the turmoil on his face. "She asked me to tell her what happened. Why he was in a coma." Graham's adam apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed. "I think she blames herself. That she could have done something to prevent it, even if she doesn't remember it. Not only that, but she feels like it would be useless for her to visit someone she doesn't know. She said she wouldn't know what to say that would make any difference." _

_Snow's head snapped up at that. "Just being there would make all the difference. If he just knew that his little girl was there-" She let her sentence trail off as tears escaped her eyes. For more than once over the last five months, Snow felt like she was at an impasse with her own emotions. "I need to go to bed." With that she disappeared into her bedroom._

The stairs creaked, as someone started to descend. Snow waited with baited breath, as her eyes were glued to the stairs. A smile crossed her lips when the first glimpse of unruly, blond curls bounced into her view.

"Oh, uh—hi." Emma spoke, as she looked up at the woman claiming to be her mother. For the first time in five months, Emma really took in her appearance and frown. Snow—as the woman called herself—looked as if she had aged a good ten years in the matter of five months. Her hair was starting to grow out, it was almost to her shoulders, but it was dark circles under her eyes that really got Emma's attention. They stood out asked the nearly stark white, paleness of her skin.

"Hi." Snow smiled at her. "Would you like some hot cocoa?"

Emma brought a finger to her chin as if she was putting deep thought into it. She offered a small smiled. "Sounds great." Her voice was quiet and almost meek sounding.

Snow fought the urge to cringe at how un-Emma like it sounded. Instead, she continued to smile as she stood up and poured her daughter a mug of the barely warm, brown liquid. She turned back to the table, that Emma was now sitting at, and sat the mug down.

"Thanks." She mumbled out, her hands wrapped around the mug as she stared into the brown, murky depths. "So-" Emma's eyes looked directly to the left of Snow as she spoke. "I was thinking that, if it was okay with you—that I could go visit-" She sighed, what was his name again. James? Did that sound right? Damn her stupid muddled brain.

"Your father?"

Emma's head jerked up from her inner musings, her eyes wide, but she nodded.

"I think that would be fine, Emma." Snow said softly, as she pulled her own mug to her lips and forced herself to drink down half of the chilled concoction.

* * *

Emma peered into the darkened room. The sunlight barely filtered through the closed blinds. James, the man that was her father, lay unmoving on the bed. Well, practically unmoving. The only motion coming from the force fed breaths that the machines forced in and out of his lungs. The breathing tube was sticking out of his mouth. His eyes were closed, and if Emma could see past the machines and the noises that they all made, she could picture that he was just in a peaceful sleep.

That's all a coma was, wasn't it? A deep, peaceful sleep that you could possibly awaken from. She had seen the hopeful expression on—she cringed—Snow's face when she had told her that she wanted to visit her father. It wasn't necessarily a choice that she made easily. Aside from the fact that she felt like garbage because of her refusal to see her bedridden father, Emma just wasn't sure she could deal with all the _hope_.

She knew that Snow and Henry were trying to be patient, and they were trying to keep that particular look off their faces. Yet, it still managed to creep in, and Snow hadn't even attempted to extinguish the look, the moment it popped onto her face. Equally, Emma fought the urge to promptly turn around and run back up the stairs, and faced the look on Snow's face head on.

Now, she stood, all alone, facing down her father. This, she had hoped, would be easier. He couldn't stare at her with eyes that practically begged her to remember. He couldn't speak with a voice that held so much hopefulness that her memory would return. Yet, she found herself standing at the cusp of his room, unable to move forward. Emma knew that she wouldn't do any good just standing there, like a scared little child.

Removing her gloves from her hands, and shoving them in her jacket pocket, she started to move forward. She found it to be easier if she kept her eyes on the floor. If she didn't look at James, then she could move forward. She spotted the chair, and promptly sat down. Her hands were folded in her lap, and finally she forced herself to look up. A gasp caught in her throat. Even though she didn't remember any of the people in her life, she could see her resemblance to each. Like the fact that she had her mother's chin and smile, or how Henry practically held onto much of her own facial features. She had to assume that the hair and eye color belonged to the young boy's father. Looking at her father now, she noticed the thing about him that she held in resemblance. Aside from the shape of his cheeks, it was his nose. Hers was practically identical to his. These people she didn't know really were her family. They really were her parents.

Snow and Graham, both had tried to explain to her why her parents were practically the same age as her. Right after they lurched into their stories of far away lands of princes, princesses, and evil queens, Emma had practically laughed in their faces, and shut herself down. Firmly believing that they were all completely whacked out of their minds. Curses? Curses were not real. They did not live in a land that had kings and queens. Especially evil queens. She had rejected their reality that Snow White and Prince Charming were her parents. The woman who called herself Snow, she might be her mother, but there was just no way she was Snow White. Not _the_ Snow White. Her father wasn't Prince Charming either.

Emma sighed. "So—your my dad." Emma said softly, her eyebrow cocked. She felt stupid speaking to someone who obviously couldn't hear her. "Snow—or whatever her name is—she said talking might help, but you're really just laying there—so I honestly don't think making small talk is going to change anything."

She groaned. Why had she decided to do this again? Oh, right. Graham, his damn puppy dog eyes, and that stupid guilt thing.

_Emma sighed, as her eye popped open. She didn't need to look at the clock to know it had only been a couple of hours. Her eyes found Graham's face, and she tried to not move to much. She didn't want to wake him when he looked so peaceful._

"_It's a little creepy to watch someone sleep." He mumbled out, a smile etching onto his lips. _

"_Always the teaser." Emma said, fighting a smile of her own, as she swatted at his chest. _

"_That's me." He whispered, not wanting to wake the remaining members of the house. "What's bothering the princess?" _

_Emma groaned. "Really, with the princess thing?" _

_Graham sat up a bit, his back against the headboard of Emma's bed. "Fight it all you want. It doesn't make it any less true. So, what's on your mind?" _

_Emma sat up, turning her back to Graham. "We really should have you checked for your psychic tendencies." _

"_You're stalling." _

"_Smarty-pants." Emma mumbled, before flopping back against the headboard, and peering at Graham. "Fine!" She sighed, exasperated. "I was just thinking. What if—he like—dies. I mean, what if I had the chance to at least see him, and I pass it up." _

_Graham nodded. "You want to go see your father?" _

"_I don't know. Honestly? Yeah, I do. I'm just—I'm scared. I am terrified of that hopeful look that I know that _she _will give me. Like I'm the world's savior or something. I'm afraid—I don't know. Of everything. It's stupid. I shouldn't go. It's not like it'll make any difference anyway." _

_Graham placed a hand on Emma's chin and forced her to look at him. "It's not stupid. It's okay to be scared, Emma. You can't let the fear overtake you though. You're so much stronger than that. You're so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Just do it. Jump in head first, and worry about everything else later. That's how you've been since I've known you. Don't change now." He grinned at her, but the intensity of his blue eyes bore into her own, and she felt her resolve crumbling. _

_She nodded. "Okay. I'll talk with-" a pause, "Snow about it in the morning." _

Emma sighed. This had been stupid, just like she had thought it would be. "I'm sorry." She said simply, as she outstretched her hand to the bed to steady herself. Her hand grazed against James, and Emma gasped at the shot of electricity that shot through her body. She looked at their barely touching hands. Suddenly the machines that were hooked to her father started to beep uncontrollably. Emma stumbled backward slightly, as the door to his room flew open. A blur of white passed by her as the doctors and nurses rushed to her father's side. Emma felt like she was no longer in her body. Like she was just floating there, watching everything from far away. Her fingertips were still tingling, as she watched the scene unfold.

Suddenly the sea of nurses parted, and Emma felt tears cloud her vision. Her father was sitting up, his eyes were wide open as he peered around the room. An ear splitting scream broke through the room. It wasn't just a noise, like someone was injured or in pain. It was a word. One word. A name. Her's.

Without a second thought, Emma turned around quickly and took off running. She found an emergency exit close by, and pressed through it. Her breathing hitched, it felt as if her chest might implode in on itself. She scanned the area, and noticed that she was near the forest. No backward glance, as she sprinted off toward the trees. The only thing she could think as she ran past the blurring of browns and greens, was that she had her father's eyes too.

* * *

_**A/N: So...thoughts? Good first chapter? I hope so, cause I really worked hard on it. Poured my soul into it, gave myself over to the angst. It was an absolute blast to write. Did you enjoy reading it? I hope so. more to come soonish. **_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So...this was a hard chapter to write, but was necessary. It's kind of hard having to write Emma trying to accept the concept of FTL being real all over again, and it's not something she is going to accept quickly. However, even if she doesn't remember her family that connection is still there, and she can still feel that connection. So I except more talks like what happens in this chapter to happen more through-out. With Henry and James in particular. Also, there will be some fluff at some point. Enjoy this chapter! **_

* * *

Snow stood at the viewing window, and watched as Emma tentatively stepped foot into James' room. At first she had been worried that her daughter would change her mind about visiting James. That Emma would turn tail, and walk out of that room and forever out of Snow's life. That had been Snow's waking nightmare, since Emma had woken with no memory of who she was. Yet, Emma proved her strength again, as she continued moving forward. Though the blonde's head was down, boring holes into the floor, she had indeed made progress.

Snow glowed with pride as Emma took one last step before sitting down, and smiled brightly when after a few moments Emma started to talk. It didn't last long, but it was the effort that mattered. It was the effort that made Snow's heart soar. After a few moments of Emma just staring ahead of James, Snow noticed that Emma was getting fidgety. She had assumed the visit would last long, but it had definitely exceeded any expectations Snow had.

She watched as Emma reached out to the bed to steady herself to stand up. Snow saw the contact between Emma and James, and watched as Emma's eyes bulged slightly. However, she never expected James' monitors to start going off, or for such a commotion to form around her husband. She could tell that Emma had become frightened, and she wanted nothing more than to run inside that room and comfort her daughter. Yet, Snow knew that would only be a backward step. That it would make Emma retreat further into her shell instead of coaxing her out. Her eyes had been trained on Emma, but when she saw the blonde breathing hard, Snow knew something was wrong. Turning her attention back to the sea of doctors and nurses that had surrounded James, she saw that her husband was sitting bolt upright, his blue eyes wide with acknowledgment.

Snow's heart took a big giant leap into her throat as she realized that her husband was awake. James had finally woken from his coma, and it had been thanks to Emma. Emma. Snow realized was still panicking. Snow knew her plan, even before she turned on her heel and ran out of the room and down the hall as fast as her legs would take her. Snow felt conflicted. Should she stay here, by James' side, or should she go after Emma. Though, Snow knew that Graham would be better equipped to handle Emma in her current state, Snow couldn't get past the notion of wanting it to be _her_ that comforted Emma.

"Go on. Find her. I'll stay here with James. I'll explain everything to him, when the doctor gives the okay. You just find Emma and bring her back." Graham spoke in a stoic voice.

Snow looked up toward the man she had known as the lonely sheriff of Storybrooke and as the lonely huntsman of fairytale land, and saw neither of those men. The person that Graham had turned into was someone completely different, yet exactly the same. He held the best qualities of both sheriff and huntsman, and had found qualities inside him, that Snow was certain even he hadn't known he possessed.

Nodding once, Snow took off down the hallway, and prayed that Emma hadn't gotten too far away. Her legs pumped her forward as she caught the tail-end of blonde locks disappear out of the side exit of the hospital.

Groaning, Snow pushed forward, shoving the heavy door out of her way. Emma disappeared quickly into the dense forest, mixing into the growing green and browns. Keeping her pace, Snow pressed into the cusp of the forest. "Oh, Emma." Snow groaned. Her peered around, she quickly picked up her daughter's trail of broken limbs, and followed those quickly. Her eyes glued to the forest floor just ahead of her, Snow wasn't able to see the extended tree root up ahead, at least not until it was too late. With a yelp, Snow tumbled to the ground. Tears flushed to her eyes quickly at the growing pain in her ankle.

She wondered for a moment if this was how Emma had felt when she had fallen almost a year earlier. Granted, Snow hadn't broken her arm, she was certain that her ankle was pretty close to broken. The burning pain was enough to make her stomach churn. Leaning over, Snow emptied the contents of her stomach as the days events finally caught up to her. As carefully as she could, Snow pulled herself up against the trunk of the tree that had been her downfall.

Snow was fairly certain that if she yelled she could get Emma's attention, but she wasn't sure that she wanted her daughter to see her like this. A broken, sobbing mess. It was likely to scare her off in her current, skittish state. The pain grew more intense, as the vision at the edge of her eyes started to blur and gray. It wasn't like her to give in so easily, she was Snow White. She was a fighter, but right now, she was exhausted, both physically and emotionally, and nothing sounded better than a dreamless unconscious. That was her last thought as unconsciousness overtook her and her world turned black.

Emma rushed forward, her lungs screaming at her to just stop already. When her vision started to swim from lack of oxygen, she halted. Her hands grasping a tree in front of her. She bent over as she gasped to catch her breath. Tears hadn't stopped rolling down her cheeks since she left the hospital. Almost every inch of her being screamed at her to go back. To face everything, that it was time to come to terms with her life whether she remembered it or not. Yet, her brain was the only part of her being that screamed for her to get the hell out of there. Altogether. To pack a bag, and leave Storybrooke. Something had stopped her from doing that so far, and though she'd like to say it was Graham, Emma was nearly certain that it was the little boy that had her eyes.

In the far off distance, Emma heard someone cry out in pain. The sound made her heart clench, and Emma realized that someone had followed her. Without a second thought, she slowly started to pick her way back the way she had come from. Quickly she found her mother sprawled out on the ground. Her back against a tree trunk, and her head slumped to the side. Somewhere in the deep recesses of her mind, Emma found something familiar about the sight in front of her. It wasn't exact, but something about what she was seeing seemed familiar.

Shaking her head, Emma knelt beside her mother. She looked over Snow's face and head to check for bumps. After a few moments, Emma was happy to find out that her mother hadn't hit her head. Next she took in the torn sleeves of her mother's sweater. Peeling the sleeves up, Emma spotted some bruising with some minor scrapes and cuts. Nothing severe it seemed, but Emma was certain that they would sting like a bitch when Snow woke up.

Emma felt herself growing irritated. She hadn't found anything that would cause Snow to lose consciousness, and it was grating on her nerves. Looking her mother up and down again, Emma spotted the serious injury. It wasn't anything that was going to kill her, at least Emma didn't think so. Yet, seeing the odd angle that Snow's foot was twisted, it was easy to realize that her ankle was definitely broken.

That was going to hurt worse than the cuts and scrapes, that much Emma knew. Sighing, Emma slid down to sit next to her unconscious mother, using her free arm to lull the woman's head onto her shoulder. She knew she needed a plan. Emma was certain that Snow wouldn't be able to walk, not on that ankle, but Emma was also fairly certain that she wouldn't be able to find her way out of the woods alone. She wasn't even certain how far she had traveled before she heard her mother's cries. So what choice did that leave her with? She could try to carry her mother, but that again would rely solely on Emma's ability to find her way out of the woods, so that was a no go. She could wait for Snow to wake up and see if she knew her way out of the woods, and then carry her. That could work, except that Emma's wrist was still weak from healing. At least that's how Snow had tried to explain it. Then again, Emma hadn't really listened to what had happened to it. Something about falling down outside, and smashing it against the kitchen table.

The more Emma heard of who she was before, the more she came to realize that she didn't necessarily like what she heard. From the bits and pieces that she had grabbed onto, it seemed that the person she was before was angry. At everything and everyone. Like the Emma from before blamed the entire world for her problems, and took it out on everyone around her.

A groan from beside her brought Emma back to the present. Craning her head, she watched as Snow blinked her eyes rapidly as she slowly came back to consciousness.

"How do you feel?" Emma whispered softly.

Snow lifted her head, her face pinched in pain. "I'm certain I've had worse, but it's been so long-" Snow sighed. "How did you find me?"

Emma smiled softly, and Snow's heart melted immediately. It had been so long since she had seen that beautiful smile. "I heard you cry out. It took me a little bit to back track. I was afraid that you hit your head." Emma's face scrunched up, before she sighed. "I'm sorry I ran." Emma's arms folded over her knees that she had brought up to her chest.

Snow reached out a hand to cup Emma's cheek. "Oh, Emma, it's fine. It's just your defense mechanism. It's how your mind works. When you can't cope with what's going on around you, it tells you to do the only thing it knows will fix it." Snow sighed, and waited a few minutes to see if Emma had anything to say before speaking again. "Do you want to talk about it?" Snow felt Emma's body shake next to her, craning her head she saw the tears rolling down Emma's cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart. It's okay." Snow wished she could move into a far less awkward position so that she could comfort her daughter.

"God! I'm such a mess. Here I am crying, and you're the one that's hurt. I just—God. I am so sorry. I've been nothing but awful and unresponsive, and you've been so kind and patient-"

"Sweetheart. It's okay, I promise. I know what it's like to feel like you are someone else, though to be fair—mine was by choice and it is not a choice I would ever make again, but I do understand what you're going through. I understand that it's all so confusing, and it wasn't fair of us to throw all of it on you the way that we did. In fact that probably only hurt your rehabilitation. I hope you can forgive us for that-"

"Of course." Emma mumbled, before sighing. "Okay. Enough about me being pathetic. How are we going to get you back to the hospital-" Emma paused, before pointing at Snow's ankle. "That is not going to hold any weight, that much I do know."

For the first time since Snow had taken her tumble, she looked down. Her nose scrunched up. "No wonder it hurts so bad." Snow tried to laugh, but it sounded almost like a half sob.

Emma eyed her carefully. "Does it hurt that badly? If you know your way out of the woods, I can try to carry you."

Snow's nose wrinkled. "Your wrist only just started to accept weight. I don't want you to risk re-injury."

Emma sighed, but nodded. "Well, we can't just sit here forever, and I have no idea how to get back to the hospital from here."

Snow nodded. "Use your cell—You did bring it, didn't you?"

Emma nodded, laughing mirthlessly. "Not that I know anyone to call."

Snow smiled. "Call Graham, he'll find us."

Emma yanked out the device, smiling, wondering why she hadn't thought of that. After a couple of rings the line picked up. Emma grimaced at the sound of Graham's irate voice. "I'm sorry that I worried everyone. I'm fine, but-" Emma wasn't sure what to say. Did she call the woman beside her Snow—or mom. She wasn't sure she was comfortable with either. "Snow fell though. I'm pretty sure her ankle is broken, and I have no idea where we are." Emma nodded. "I'll keep an eye out for you." She nodded some more before mumbling one final sorry before hanging up. Her head hung.

"Graham's worried?"

Emma looked at Snow through her eyebrows. "Apparently he isn't the only one. James is—awake. I was-" Emma sighed. "I was afraid he was dead—or dying. Something. Apparently the strain of worry isn't good on his recovery." Emma frowned. "I didn't mean to make anything worse."

Snow patted her shoulder. "I'm sure James will understand once he knows the whole story. He was in his coma when you woke up. He doesn't know—anything. Unless Graham told him."

Emma nodded. "Still. Doesn't excuse how I acted—err—reacted. I'm just—I am so sick of feeling so-" Another sigh, "out-of-place."

Snow placed a finger under Emma's chin and forced her to look at her. "Don't. You belong here, with your family. Even if you don't remember us, we remember you. You are so brave, Emma, and you are loved. No matter what you think, each and everyone of us loves you."

Emma smiled as a few tears trickled down her cheeks. "Did the old me cry this much?" Emma asked, as she laughed, and wiped the salty tears from her cheeks.

"Sometimes. Not often, but if you did there was usually a reason. In the last month or so before your—incident-it was a little more often. Then again we were all going through some really stressful things." Snow blinked, and Emma realized that she was trapped in a past memory. After a few moments, Snow's eyes focused, and she smiled sadly at Emma. "Emma, I firmly believe that your memory will return to you. Please, just be patient, and let us help you. I haven't said anything, but you're breaking Henry's heart. I know you don't mean to, but that poor boy has been through so much already and right now he really just needs his mom."

Emma nodded. "I will try." Her head snapped up at the sound of breaking limbs and smiled. "Thank God."

Graham smiled down at her, before looking at Snow's ankle. "Holy-" He stopped, shaking his head. "How bad is the pain?" He asked before kneeling down in front of Snow.

"Well—it's kind of going numb."

Graham nodded, knowing that wasn't a good sign. He made a face, before speaking again. "This might hurt." He looked at Emma. "I need you to pull up her pants leg while I peel off her sock and shoe. It was Dr. Whale's explicit instructions." Emma nodded as she gingerly pulled the pants leg up. She felt Snow tense, and reached out her free hand to grasp Snow's. "I am so sorry, Snow." Graham sighed, before carefully pulling off Snow's shoe. The scream that penetrated the air made Emma's heartbreak. Her hand was throbbing from the amount of pressure Snow had put on it, but she didn't say anything. "Okay, Snow. One quick motion." Graham grabbed the sock with two hands, took a deep breath before yanking it off. She screamed again, before her body went limp against the tree. Giving into the unconsciousness for the second time that day.

* * *

_**A/N: So...review? Please? Pretty please? It makes me write faster! This is a proven fact!**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N: Finally got me a beta reader-and I want to thank her for doing such an awesome job! So, thanks to shopowner93. If you haven't read her story "Beliving In Henry" then you need to. It's FANTASTIC! Bucket loads of angst here. **_

* * *

Henry sat in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the hospital waiting room. His day had started out promising, when he learned that Emma had asked to see Grandpa James. In fact, Henry had even smiled when he heard that bit of news, something that he hadn't done in quite sometime. Then his grandfather woke up and scared Emma, and he had watched as she ran from the only family that she truly knew.

Graham had pulled him into his side, as he told his grandma to follow Emma. Henry felt a little better knowing that his mother wouldn't be alone for long. It had hurt to watch his grandpa freak out over Emma disappearing, and it had broken his heart when he had to be sedated.

It wasn't long after that, Graham's phone had rung and he had whispered angry retorts into the phone. Henry had known that he was worried, not only for James but for Emma's sake as well. So, Henry had concluded that Graham was talking to his mother, which meant that something was probably wrong. Suddenly Graham pulled Henry out into the waiting room by his hand and bent down in front of him.

"Henry. Your grandma had an accident. I need to go help her right now. Can you do me a favor?" Henry really liked Graham, and respected his authority—even if he wasn't the sheriff anymore. He nodded softly. "Can you sit right there and not move? I don't have time to find someone to sit with you. I swear I will be right back."

Henry sighed, and bit his lip. He wouldn't cry, he was going to be eleven soon. Eleven-year old boys didn't cry-they were strong and brave. Lifting his head, Henry nodded stiffly. "I promise." His voice cracked slightly.

"You are such a brave boy, Henry." Graham said, before smiling at him and ruffling his hair.

With that, Henry had clamored over to a chair and sat down. That had been fifteen minutes ago, Henry knew because his eyes hadn't left the clock since he sat down. Henry watched as Dr. Whale walked past, his steps hurried. He craned his head and looked behind him, and watched as the side door out of the hospital opened to reveal Emma who rushed inside followed by Graham who held his grandmother in his arms. Her body was limp, and Henry feared the worst. He scrambled off the chair and ran toward the adults.

"Is she alright?" he practically yelled, as tears filled his eyes.

Graham looked down at Henry, but was too busy helping Dr. Whale situate Snow to answer him. Using his shoulder, he bumped Emma's and nodded toward Henry. She sighed, before looking down at him. The tears in his eyes broke her heart. Reaching out, she grabbed his hand and walked him away from Snow and Graham.

Sitting down beside him in the waiting area, she glanced over toward him. "She'll be okay, Henry."

He turned toward her. Emma practically shrank backward at the amount of sadness and fear in the young boy's eyes. It suddenly hit her just how much that he had been through in less than a year. Her mouth bobbed open and close a couple of times as tears pressed against her own eyes. The amount of pain she felt in her heart caused an unfamiliar ache in the back of her throat. This child that she didn't know was her child, and just because she didn't remember him didn't make him any less hers. She had been neglecting him, and it took one look at the intense pain on his face for her to realize how much she longed to take his pain away.

"I swear. She will be fine."

She watched him swallow thickly, before turning his scared eyes back onto her. "She has to. Who will take care of me, if she's not?"

Emma swallowed as she just stared at him. "I will. I am sorry for how I've been acting."

Henry shrugged. "It's okay, I guess. I get it. You don't know me-"

Emma placed her hand on Henry's shoulder and waited for him to look at her again. "I may not know you—not in the normal sense anyway—but I feel a connection to you, Henry."

He nodded. "Good." He offered her a sad smile. "So—what happened?" he asked, his legs swinging back and forth while he waited for her answer.

She smiled sadly. "Snow was following me, and she tripped. She hurt her ankle."

"Oh," Henry offered. "So, she'll really be okay?"

Emma smiled softly. "Yeah. She will."

"But, will you still take care of me? I mean, I love Grandma Snow, but I miss my mom." Henry hung his head; he couldn't look at her. He didn't' want to see her rejecting him. Hearing it would be bad enough.

A sigh sounded beside him, but he forced his head to stay down. "I will try, Henry. Can you do something for me?" He looked up, a little wearily, before nodding. "Will you be patient with me? I want to try to be better at dealing with all of this, but I need time."

"I can do that," he said, before yawning loudly. Removing his jacket, he balled it up and curled up as well as he could on the chair. His eyes drooped close fairly quickly, and Emma pondered picking him up and letting him sleep on her. It would be more comfortable than his current position, but as quickly as the though entered her mind, Graham reappeared. He leaned over Henry, and hefted the boy into his arms before sitting down, letting him curl up against him.

"Dr. Whale said that her ankle is broken and that it's fairly unstable. He needs to do surgery to put in a plate and some screws. He's on his way over to get approval. With your father sedated, he's going to need you to sign for approval."

Emma sighed, "Yeah. I can do that. I mean, she's hurt because of me."

Graham placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't blame yourself, Emma. You are entitled to be scared."

Her head hung. "But am I entitled to hurt people that love me?" she asked. Her eyes squeezed tightly against the tears. She fought them off, unwilling to break down in such a public place. "I have to get my memory back, Graham. It's not fair. Not to me and not to them."

* * *

James blinked his eyes open as he looked around his room. His vision was still a little blurry, but he saw a mess of blonde hair out of the corner of his left eye. He sighed, realizing that his little girl was okay. When she had run from his room earlier he had started to panic. His heart felt like it was clenching tightly in his chest, and his breathing had nearly ceased. James had remembered Graham trying to get him to focus. The poor man had tried to explain something to him, but all James could think was that there was something wrong with Emma. There had to be something wrong with her, because Emma wouldn't run away from him. At least, he didn't think she would. Not after all the work he and Snow had put in to break down those damn towering walls.

"Good. You woke up. I was kind of afraid. You've been asleep for a while."

James craned his head, and pinched his eyes closed against the rolling dizziness. "How are you?" he heard her laugh without mirth, causing him to peer at her through one open eye. "What's so funny?"

She leaned forward, her arms crossed over her chest. A defensive stance, one that James knew all too well. "You're the one that's been in a coma, and you want to know if I'm alright?"

His eyes shot open, as he sat up. The heart monitor beside his bed started to beep frantically. He stared at Emma trying to see if she had aged dramatically. "How—long?" he gasped out, realizing that his breaths were coming in wheezing puffs.

"Seriously. Calm down or that damn, annoying doctor will kick me out," Emma said, standing up and shoving him back against the bed.

He reached up a hand and clasped hers. James felt as his breathing became easier, and his heart stopped hammering in his chest. There were so many questions lingering that needed answering, but first he needed to know how long he had been in a coma. "How long?" His question was a little more forceful this time.

Emma scratched at her chin with her free hand. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Graham had told her to be gentle with dealing with James when he woke up. That too much stress could make him relapse back into a coma. She hadn't believed him, it didn't sound right, but that annoyingly, nice doctor had confirmed what Graham had said. If only she could just remember exactly how long Snow had said he had been in his coma. Granted, if this question had her stumped, then she was inherently screwed if he asked anything more in-depth. _'Screw it'_ Emma thought, before looking back down at James.

"I'm not really sure. I think Snow said five months?"

James' mouth stood agape, as he stared at his daughter. Five months? He clenched his free hand into a fist to hide the fact that it was shaking. How could he miss five months of his family's life. His chest clenched uncomfortably, as his throat grew tight. How could he let them all down like that? He forced a sigh through his tightly, pursed lips. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, he pushed that information to the back of his mind for now, before turning his attention back to Emma. The weary look on her face, made his face scrunch in concentration. Something was definitely different about her. There was something she wasn't telling him, it was written on all over her face. Squeezing her hand, he forced her attention back on him. "What's wrong, Emma? Something's different."

Emma sighed, as she sat back down in her chair. Her hand was still in James', the thought to remove it hadn't even entered her mind. "I have amnesia," Emma said in a matter-of-fact type of way.

That information hit him like a ton of bricks. If she said anything else, it was lost on him. Everything felt far away as his mind drifted. He knew exactly what she was feeling, and that thought caused his heart to clench painfully. He felt like he could just scream. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Emma was supposed to break the curse, and they were supposed to get their happy endings back. This—Emma with no memory—was not a happy ending. It was a tragic ending. He felt his eyes start to water, and he clenched them closed to keep the tears at bay. Emma didn't need him crying for her. If anything, that would only make her retreat away from him. "Emma, honey." James' voice cracked, as a tear slipped past his barrier. He cursed himself for being so weak, when Emma needed him.

Emma felt her heart constrict when she realized that her father was blaming himself. "It's not your fault—I don't think. Not from what Snow and Graham have told me. If anything, what happened to you was my fault. I should be the one begging you for forgiveness, and not just for the coma thing." Emma's head fell into her hands. She could feel the hot tears press against her closed eyelids, and she swallowed back the increasing amount of fear and panic. She was so sick of feeling so weak—always crying—always complaining. She had meant what she had said to Henry. She wanted to try harder and be there. Emma was so sick of her life being a complete mess, even if she had no idea how to fix it, she was going to try like hell to get back the person she used to be. At the very least, try to become someone that could stop hurting her family. First on that agenda was to figure out how to rebuild relationships with people she didn't remember. "I am so sorry." She peered at James through glassy eyes. "I have been so—awful. To Snow and Henry—and I don't even know why!" She held her head high, fighting back the overwhelming heartbreak that was tearing her apart on the inside. The only thing that gave her away, was the quiver of her jaw.

James saw through her tough exterior. He could see the fear in her eyes, the pain etched on her face, and he definitely didn't miss the quivering of her jaw. Emma was so close to breaking down, and James knew that it would probably be good for her to give into those emotions. He just didn't know how to lead her having an emotional breakthrough. That definitely seemed like something that Snow would be better at. Some part of his brain was picking up on the fact that his wife was missing from his room, and he knew that he needed to ask about that. Yet, right now it was about Emma. Reaching over, he gripped her hand again, squeezing it gently. "Emma. I know you don't remember this, but I, at one time, didn't know who I was. I was so lost and afraid. More that I would never remember who I was, than of what had caused me to forget. I know what you're going through—I know what you're feeling." Emma slipped her hand from his, and eyed him carefully. He sighed. Of course he had over stepped some boundary. Emma might not remember who she was, but that didn't mean that her walls had disappeared. If anything, she had rebuilt them, higher and stronger than before. "I just—I wanted you to know that I am here for you-" God, he needed Snow right now. A subject change, that was what he needed, since his current path wasn't yielding any results. "Where is Snow?"

Emma swallowed thickly, as she turned her head. She stared directly at the heart monitor that was hooked up to James. She watched as the line jumped with each beat of his heart. It was entirely soothing to watch the line move in rhythm with James' heart beat. Staring at it, and refusing to meet his eyes, she spoke. "Surgery. It's all my fault. She followed me. I wish she hadn't—I'm only good at hurting people, that much I have been able to gather. Look at you—and Snow." She sighed.

James reached his hand out, and groaned when it was just short of reaching Emma's chin. He needed her to look at him. He needed information. His heart started to beat a little erractally, as images flashed through his mind. Snow was in surgery, but what was wrong. Was it serious? He had to know, the not knowing was causing his chest to hurt—or maybe it was his gasping for a breath. Why couldn't he breathe.

"Seriously. You have to calm down." Emma finally spoke. She pushed down on him again.

James hadn't even realized that he had moved. He hadn't felt himself sit up, and most definitely hadn't felt himself attempting to remove the central line connected to his wrist. He felt Emma's hand slip into his, like it had done earlier. Slowly, his breathing slowed, and his heartbeat started to retreat into something more suitable for a man that had just woken from a coma. When he trusted his voice again, he spoke. "Surgery?"

Suddenly Emma realized her mistake. This was his wife she had been talking about, and she had been as vague as a person could be. She blew out a breath through her nose, before looking back at James. "It's okay. Dr. Whale promised that she would be fine. It's just-" Emma sighed, she was getting frustrated with herself and her inability to complete her thoughts. "She fell and broke her ankle—when she was chasing after me."

James nodded. It was just a broken ankle—but it was still surgery. "How long has she been in surgery?"

Emma's eyebrows shot up. That had not been the question she was expecting. Her eyes probed the room while she looked for a clock. Finally landing on one, she did the mental calculations. She could feel a headache starting to form at her temples, and she fought the urge to rub them. James did not need another reason to freak out. He had already done that far too many times today. It couldn't be healthy. Clearing her throat, she looked back at James. "I think, around an hour and a half or so."

James nodded. "You saw her? Before she went into surgery?"

Emma stared at him. Always with the weird questions. Nodding her head, she figured it would be best to leave out the whole _she was unconscious_ part of the story. No need to send him down the road of another panic attack. "Yeah, I did. We were stuck out in the forest for a little bit until Graham found us."

James just stared at her for a minute. Taking in all the information. Snow had followed Emma when she had taken off earlier. She had fallen—which didn't sound right. Snow was more than equipped to handle the forest. Hell, she had practically lived in the forest for year before James had made an honest woman out of her. Then again, she was probably upset because Emma was upset. Probably not paying as much of her attention to possible tree roots as she should have. Tripped—Emma said she was with Snow—she must have went back and stayed with her. Graham. James would have to thank him—if it hadn't been for him—he sighed, realizing that he had been quiet for longer than he had intended to. "How did she seem?" he watched as Emma's eyebrows furrowed. She had that confused look on her face. The same one that Snow got when she didn't understand something—or someone. "It's just—Snow doesn't like the attention being on her. She definitely doesn't like admitting to pain-"

An _ah ha _look came over Emma's face, before she smiled sadly. "Yeah, I figured that out when I practically had to drag the information out of her. She was in quite a bit of pain, but Dr. Whale said that it should heal once a plate and screws are put in to help hold it together."

James' face scrunched up. "Screws? A plate?" He didn't like the way that sounded.

Emma sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "Her ankle is unstable. The plate and screws will help stabilize it while it heals."

James shook his head. "So, they'll be taken out when it's healed?"

Emma stared blankly for a moment. "I don't know. I don't think so. I mean—why would they put her through surgery, only to turn around and do it all over again in a few months?"

James nodded. That made sense. He didn't like it, and he really wished that there was something he could do to change it. To fix it. He definitely didn't want to be stuck in this damn bed, not when his family needed him so badly. His hands made another move for the sensors connected to his chest.

"Stop that!" Emma said, her voice holding a certain amount of chasite to it, as she swatted at James' hands.

He stared at her for a moment, before he burst out in laughter.

"What is so funny!?" Emma huffed.

"You are definitely your mother's daughter." James spoke between laughs. "You sounded just like her."

Even though he was laughing, Emma could tell from the way he spoke that it wasn't at her. There was a certain bit of relief in his voice. "What's that supposed to mean?" Her eyebrow furrowed. There wasn't any malice or anger in her voice, she was generally curious what he meant.

James sobered up quickly, before grabbing hold of Emma's hand. He squeezed it affectionately when she attempted to pull it away again. "It means that my daughter is still in there. It means I am going to fight like hell to bring her back. You're going to get your memory back, Emma, and I will be there every single step of the way."

Emma's eyes glistened, and she swiped angerily at them. Crying wouldn't help anything. She was fairly certain if she never cried again, it would be too soon. She offered James a smile, before removing her hand from his grasp. "So—what's next?"

"I'd like to see my grandson." James answered, smiling back at her.

"Well, he was asleep on Graham the last time I was in the waiting room, but I can go get him, if you want?"

James smiled. "I would like that."

* * *

Henry edged his way toward James' room, his fist wiped at the sleep still clouding his vision. He entered the room, and found his grandfather beaming at him. Sighing in relief, Henry took off running. He eyed the chair, but look at James for a moment waiting for his permission before climbing onto the bed. Leaning over, Henry threw his arms around James as carefully as he could.

"I'm so glad you woke up, Grandpa." Henry smiled at how ridiculous it sounded. The man before him was far too young to be a grandfather, and yet he was.

"I'm glad too, Henry." James smiled. He could feel his grandson's apprehension in letting go. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Henry shook his head against James' chest. "It's not your promise to make."

James' heart constricted painfully, as he wrapped his arms tightly around Henry's body. He was only a ten-year-old boy, and he had already seen his fair share of heart break. Images flashed before James' eyes: images from the night that he had apparently slipped into a coma, images from the night that he was certain that he would lose his daughter. James held Henry tighter, as his grandson's body shook and jerked with the sobs that overtook his small body.

"I'm so sorry, Henry," James forced out after his sobs had ebbed. "This is not the life that Emma wanted for you, that much I do know. She never wanted you to feel so much pain." Henry hiccuped loudly as his sobs ceased. "I wish I could take away all of the pain you've gone through."

Henry pulled back. "It's okay, Grandpa. I know it'll only hurt for a little while longer. Mom—she'll get her memory back," he sniffed as more tears threatened to fall. "She told me that she never meant to hurt me. I believe her. I don't think it's her intention to pull away. It's just-" he sighed. "It's like she's the same Emma from before. The one I brought to Storybrooke."

James nodded. "Well, now you have me. You have your grandmother and Graham. Even if she doesn't know it, Emma does love you," James sighed. He hated asking his grandson what he was about to ask, but it was unavoidable. "We just need you to be strong a little while longer, Henry. Do you think you can do that?"

Henry sat back fully. He took in his grandfather, while his index finger tapped his chin. Slowly a sly grin lifted the corners of Henry's mouth. "On one condition." He held up his index finger to indicate the number one.

"What's that?" James' eyebrow cocked, as he raised his chin about an inch.

"You teach me how to sword fight. When you're better, of course." Henry smiled, brightly. "I am the grandson of a prince after all."

James laughed, heartily. "That is true, Henry. I suppose I can't argue with that logic."

Henry beamed at James, before engulfing James in another hug. "I love you, grandpa!"

James reciprocated the hug. "I love you too, Henry."


	4. Chapter 4

_**Apologies for how long this took! I fought with it for the longest time. I'm getting ready to story on the next chapter though, so hopefully it won't be so long this time. **_

* * *

Emma watched as Henry entered James' room, and smiled sadly as the young boy climbed onto the hospital bed. Her chest clenched uncomfortably when Henry buried his head into James' chest. Even from a distance, she could see his small frame shake, and she didn't miss James rubbing soothing circles on his back. A sob caught in her throat, and Emma bit her lip to keep it from coming out.

"He'll be okay. Henry's a strong boy."

Emma turned her glassy eyes onto Graham, who put a hand on her shoulder. "I wish I could say the same about me."

Graham offered her a small, crooked smile. "But you are. You don't even see it!" he sighed as he shook his head. "That's how I know you're still in there—somewhere." he searched her eyes before continuing. "You've been like this, for as long as I've known you. Never realizing just how strong and special you really are. It's kind of heartbreaking, Emma Swan."

Emma hung her head. "Special? I don't think so. Someone special wouldn't hurt people the way I do. That little boy-" she heaved a sigh, before meeting Graham's eyes again, "my little boy, is in that room crying because I can't be his mother."

Graham pulled Emma into his arms. He waited for a moment, expecting her to fight back, before stroking her hair. "You are a very special person, Emma Swan. You are loved and you are needed." He paused, as he kissed her hair. "Henry needs you, so much. I know that it scares you—that isn't anything new either—but it's the truth. It's fine to be scared, Emma. I would be worried if you weren't terrified, but you have got to stop shutting everyone out. You need to let your family in. They want to help you—they need to, and you need to let them."

Emma nodded against his chest, as she wrapped her arms around him. Her heart swelled slightly, and she knew that she was starting to fall in love with this man. For a moment she wondered if she had loved him before—but the warmth in her heart answered that. Emma could tell that she wasn't the type to fall in love easily—so if she was already feeling such strong feelings without remembering Graham—then she had to have loved him before.

"I need you—promise you won't leave."

He chuckled lightly, as a smile crossed his lips. "Never." He pulled away and looked her in the eye. "You're kind of stuck with me."

Emma returned his smile, before winking at him. "I guess you're stuck with me too, then."

She turned back toward the window, and was relieved to see Henry laughing with James. It caused the small smile on her face to grow. For the first time since she had woken up five months earlier, she felt truly happy. James was awake—and fairly healthy. Now all they needed was for Snow to come out of surgery. Emma could deal with her having a broken ankle, but she didn't think she could take any more drastic changes in her life. Snow needed to come out of that surgery, and be all right.

"Ms. Swan." Emma heard. Cringing slightly, Emma turned in unison with Graham and faced the doctor. "Your mother is out of surgery. I need to speak to you." Those were not words that Emma wanted to hear. Looking up at Graham, he nodded before nudging her shoulder. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Emma followed the doctor, all the while praying that her mother was going to be all right.

Graham shoved the door to James' room open. Peering inside, he watched as Emma's father smiled softly at him. Graham noted the young boy sound asleep, curled up against James' right side. He felt so bad for Henry, everything going on was a lot for anyone to adjust to, but it was almost impossible to ask an almost 11-year-old to just go with the flow. Especially when said young boy has already been through so much already.

James carefully gestured Graham into the room, all the while trying to not jostle Henry. Graham sat in the chair that Emma has occupied only minutes earlier. He groaned out quietly as his back protested the uncomfortable chair. After he was situated, Graham looked up at James.

Prince James was a man that Graham had respected. To be fair, Graham hadn't known James very well in Fairytale Land, but what he did know made him respect the man that he was. Graham had always seen James as the strong-willed, sword-wielding man that he was. Even thinking back of James time spent as David, or at least as much of it that Graham had witnessed, he still saw hints of the man that James was. Even if James wasn't a king, he would still command respect. It was something that just seemed flow off of him constantly. So, seeing him laid up in a hospital bed was a little disconcerting for Graham, but he didn't want to make James uncomfortable. Especially since he wasn't even sure how James would feel about the fact that he and Emma had some sort of odd relationship, even if it had been for a short time.

"Thank you." James spoke up first.

Graham's neck popped at the speed his head whipped around. He stared at James, and knew after a few moments of his scrutinizing gaze, Graham realized that James was fidgeting uncomfortably. It caused Graham to smile, because it was something that Emma did when she was uncomfortable. "Sorry. Didn't mean to stare—it's just—" Graham sighed, as he ran a hand through his hair. "Why are you thanking me?"

James laughed lightly, careful to not rouse Henry. "Because, it seems that you are always saving the women in my life. Snow—Emma. Where I'm from, that is enough reason to thank a man."

Graham bowed his head. Even if he wasn't the man he had been back in Fairytale Land, he still wasn't used to having someone actually be thankful for him. Especially not someone like Prince James. He tried to offer a smile, but Graham was fairly certain that it came out more of a grimace. "No thanks needed, but you're welcome."

"Of course there is, Graham. You are such a brave man. I'm not just talking about now—and everything you've been through here. I'm talking about all of it. You directly disobeyed Regina's orders to kill Snow. You did so, knowing that she would take your life from you instead, but that didn't deter you from going forward. From saving my wife, and ultimately my daughter-" James sighed. He wished that he could make Graham look at him, but fear of waking his grandson left him unmoving. Instead, he quietly cleared his throat, and waited. After a few moments, Graham's head lifted slightly. "I want you to know that I am so sorry."

Graham's eyebrow lifted slightly, a look of confusion lit up his face. "Why are you sorry? I should be apologizing to you."

This time, James' eyebrow shot up. "I'm sorry, because I feel partially to blame for you dying-" he paused, his brow furrowed slightly as he frowned before continuing, "why are you sorry?"

Graham nodded, as he let the information sink in, before opening his mouth to speak. "Because I never should have let Emma talk me into staying at the hospital. I should have gone with you. If I had, maybe you wouldn't be-" he paused, as he gestured to the hospital bed before continuing, "here."

James chuckled. "Emma would have never let you come. She would have strapped you to the bed herself, if she thought you'd chase after us. Besides, Graham, look at us. One of us was in a coma for five months, the other was shot so severely that they almost died—and ended up with amenisa. I think it's safe to assume that something even worse would have happened to you. As much as it would have pained Emma, if she knew who I was, to see me in a coma, she would have been utterly devastated if she lost you again." James ran his free hand over his face. "Snow told me about what happened. How you and Emma-" James groaned. He didn't understand why he was finding it so hard to find the right words. "How Emma was there—when-"

"When I died." Graham's face held a solemn expression. His jaw was tight, and his lips were set in a firm line. "From what I remember, which isn't a lot, she was there, yes." Graham nodded.

"What I'm trying to say, is that moment broke her heart. Emma doesn't allow herself to be heartbroken, not easily. So the fact that your death had such a profound impact on her and her life, shows that you had found a way to break through her walls. Even if just a little bit. The moment you walked back into her life, the walls that she had been building back up were knocked back down. I saw it the moment she saw your face. That scared and confused look on her face—it was because she was still trying to move past your death. It was hiding what she was really feeling. Something that I firmly believe that she still feels now—she just doesn't know that she's feeling it. She loves you, Graham, and that is enough for me."

Graham eyed James carefully. This was not the direction he was expecting the conversation to go. Hell, Graham wasn't even sure what direction this was. "Enough for what?" he asked quietly.

James smiled softly at Graham. "Enough to date her."

A grin broke out on Graham's face, as he attempted to hold in the laughter that bubbled up his throat. "You do know that if Emma finds out that you just gave me permission to date her-"

"She'll take a swing at me? Oh, yeah. I know that. In fact, I'm betting on it. My little girl is still in there. I'm fairly certain if I piss her off enough, she'll make an appearance."

Graham couldn't stop himself. He barked out a laugh, as Henry moaned from the bed. He clamped his mouth shut, a little too late as Henry sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What did I miss?" he asked sleepily.

Emma sat with her arms perched on her knees as they bounced in anticipation. Dr. Whale had explained that Snow's surgery had gone according to plan. That she would be on crutches for an undisclosed amount of time. According to Whale, it would be until he saw her ankle could start holding her weight. At which point she would still need to use the crutches, so she didn't overwhelm her ankle, until he saw fit. Then, with therapy, she could continue on without the crutches. It seemed like a lot of work, but Emma had personally promised that she would make sure that Snow followed his orders. She then proceeded to promise herself that she would take care of Snow, and that she would help her with her physical therapy when the time came.

His last explanation had been that she should be waking up anytime now, and that Emma was free to sit with her until she did. Once that happened, he had explained that she was to retrieve him so that he could explain it all over again to Snow. Emma had forced herself to not roll her eyes at him, but she couldn't hide the glower that overtook her face.

A groan coming from her left, brought Emma out of her internal rambling. Twisting her head, she watched as Snow blinked her eyes. Though she couldn't see them well, Emma could tell that they held a slightly glassy look to them.

"Emma?" Snow called out, her hand reaching out for Emma's hand.

Emma clasped it tightly, before standing up so Snow could see her. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

Snow blinked her eyes again, trying to remove the remaining blur from her vision. "Like I've been drugged." A slow lazy smile crossed her lips.

"No pain?" Emma asked, her eyebrow arched slightly.

Snow shook her head, causing the blurring to return to her vision. "Nope." she popped the 'P' loudly, before giggling.

Emma couldn't help herself. She chuckled along with Snow. "Wow, they must have you on the good stuff."

Snow tried to sober herself, before attempting to scoot herself into a sitting position. It failed miserably, as her arms practically flailed around like they weren't actually connected to her body. Groaning, Snow glared at her arms, before turning her pouting face to Emma. "Help your mother out?" she asked, before giggling again.

Emma fought against the cringe that formed at the word _mother_, and simply rolled her eyes before readjusting the bed so that Snow was sitting up. "Better?"

Snow nodded slowly, as she pinched her eyes closed. When she opened them again, Emma noted the change in her facial expression. "We need to talk."

Emma groaned, and moved the chair so that she was sitting a bit closer to Snow's bed. There was no way she was going to refuse her mother anything at this moment, and if she was going to be forced to talk she was at least going to be within earshot. "Shoot."

Snow sighed, as she played with the edge of her hospital blanket. While she attempted to gather her thoughts in her muddled, drug-laced brain, she remembered both of the times that her daughter was in one of these beds. Neither time was particularly pleasant, but the latter was the worst. Not only had Emma been on the brink of death, but she had awoken to a room full of strangers.

"About what happened-"

"I am so sorry." Emma said, her voice breaking, as she pinched her eyes closed. She refused to allow tears to fall. She had already decided that all her crying wasn't helping anyone, and it was only serving to piss her the hell off.

"No, Emma. I did not bring this up for you to apologize. You have nothing to apologize for."

Emma's eyes snapped open as she stared at Snow. "Of course I do! Look at you. You have a freaking metal plate holding your ankle together because I decided that I couldn't handle my emotions. How is that fair?"

Snow nodded. "It's not, Emma. To be honest, I was more worried about finding you than I was about paying attention to what was around me. I fell because I wasn't watching where I was going close enough. That is my fault. Not yours."

Emma laughed, mirthlessly. "Yeah. Right. If I hadn't run off to begin with-"

Snow held up her hand. "You were doing what you always do, Emma. No one can fault you for that. I shouldn't have pushed you so hard to go see James. It was obviously too much, too fast."

Emma shook her head. "No." her voice was merely a whisper. "I'm glad I came. I'm glad I talked to him-"

Snow smiled brightly. "He's awake?" Emma merely nodded. "Oh that is fantastic news!"

"Didn't you see him—y'know, wake up?"

Snow nodded slightly. "I saw his eyes were open, and then what Graham told you. I just assumed that he hadn't woken back up."

Emma smiled softly. "He did. We talked." her smile grew slightly as she thought back on her talk with her father. "He wants to help me remember."

"He is a good person for that. James went through a similar experience."

"Yeah, he tried to tell me about it—but it kind of freaked me out." Emma bowed her head. "Is that normal for me? To freak out about stuff?"

Snow laughed lightly. "Yes, sweetheart. As long as I've known you, you've never been great at dealing with your emotions. Especially when they are overwhelming. I can only imagine that is intensified right now. You don't have to feel bad about that. All we want from you is an attempt. For you to try. To stop withdrawing from us, and to try to become apart of this family—again. You were able to do it once, I have faith you can do it again."

Emma smiled. "I am supposed to be making you feel better. Not the other way around."

Snow reached out and grabbed Emma's hand. She smiled softly, when Emma didn't recoil from the touch. "I'm your mother, Emma. My number one priority is to always make you feel better—no matter how I might be feeling."

Emma fought against the cringe again. She really wanted to try to accept this woman as her mother, whether she remembered her or not, but hearing the word had her heart racing. "I have to go get the doctor. He has explicit orders for you, and I promised to enforce them."

Snow rolled her eyes. "I won't use crutches." she called as Emma disappeared. A smile crossed her lips. Her daughter was trying, that much Snow could tell. She couldn't ask for more—not right now.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Hey guys! Hope you all enjoy this new chapter. I gotta send thanks and love out to my fantastically awesome beta-reader shopowner93 for putting up with my wretched grammar. **_

* * *

Five days. Five long, excruciating days had passed since James woke from his coma. Finally, he was being sent home, with a near clean bill of health, and the advice to stop hitting his head. One dark scowl later, and he learned that Snow would be joining him, as she too would be released.

"That doctor, he said normally they wouldn't have kept Snow so long. Except that her ankle was retaining fluid, and he said that was worrisome," Emma explained, as she stood awkwardly off to the side while James buttoned his flannel shirt.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have sat with her."

Emma sighed, her hands thrust upward in an attempt at showing her frustration. "She sat with you every single day. So, why don't you ask her why she didn't tell you?"

James chuckled. "Frustration—definitely a trait of my daughter. Perhaps I should keep poking the bear?"

Emma glared at him. "I dare you."

"Oh, Emma! You should never, ever dare your father. He doesn't take those in stride." James barked a laugh, as he stood up from his bed. Emma rolled the wheelchair that Graham had left with her, over toward him.

He shook his head back and forth in quick motions. "I haven't had dizzy spells in days. There is no way that I am coming out of this hospital in that awful thing."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Dramatic much? Look, it's hospital policy. Snow's using hers-" Emma paused, eying Graham carefully as he nodded his head, "apparently she put up a fight as well though. Not shocking," Emma groaned. "Please, just appease me this one time?"

James sighed, his hands jutted up in frustration. "Fine." He sat down in his wheelchair, as Emma turned him around. "I do have to ask, why are you pushing me and Graham is pushing your mother? Wouldn't it have made more sense the other way?"

Emma had to agree with James whole-heartedly. However, with as much as she had been trying lately, visiting with each of her parents—for about an hour or so apiece, Emma had found it easier to be around James more than Snow. She wasn't sure if it was because of the whole guilt thing or if it was because James didn't seem to expect so much from Emma. Either way, Emma didn't find herself feeling quite so panicky when she visited with James. In fact, she often found herself laughing—or on rare occasions, talking about any and all developments she had been making. Which had been so small that she often found that it wasn't even worth bringing up. In fact, she had long since stopped bringing it up in front of Snow. It was too much, to see that look of expectance. Like the dam of memories was so close to bursting open—even though Emma knew that it wasn't. Some day's Emma wasn't even sure that she would get her memory back.

"Technically? Yes." Emma cut herself off after that. Anything she might say would hurt Snow, and Emma couldn't handle that today.

Though she had been working on controlling her emotional state more, she found that some days that was easier said than done. Today was one of those days. In fact, Emma felt like she was one wrong look away from telling someone—anyone really—where they could go. Emma was proud to admit that she hadn't cried—not really—since the day James had woken up. There were the occasions when she woke up to find that she had been crying in her sleep. It wasn't like she could control that.

"How has Henry been doing?" Snow broke Emma from her internal reverie.

Emma's head snapped toward Snow, and she smiled softly. "Good."

Graham smiled softly. "Emma has been trying really hard, and Henry has been very aware of Emma's moods. It's turning into one of the oddest partnerships I have ever seen."

Snow looked back toward her daughter, and smiled.

"So. Who is ready to go home?" Emma asked, before Snow had a chance to say something all too motherly, and send Emma spiraling down an emotional outburst that no one really wanted to see.

"I am!" James exclaimed.

Snow snorted out a laugh, as Graham pushed her forward first, with Emma following close behind. She had decided earlier that morning that it would be nice to have her—parents—home, but now she realized just how difficult it would be. At least she would have Graham—and Henry to back her up.

* * *

Later that night, long after everyone got settled, Emma finally allowed herself to relax. It seemed that everyone was able to fall back into a comfortable routine—everyone except for Emma. She felt like the odd man out, when James declared he was fixing dinner. Though it did make her smile to watch Snow, on her crutches, standing just behind James watching his every move. If it had been her, she would have gotten fed up very quickly and given up the task. James, though, was patient, even joking with Snow's insistent need to watch him.

There was no denying it, James had been the part of the equation that had been missing. Everyone seemed much more relaxed, more at ease with him there. Henry even seemed—dare she say—happy? A smile tugging at the edges of his small lips, his eyes more alight with life than before.

To say the five days up to James and Snow's release from the hospital were trying was an understatment. Snow had informed Emma that Henry was plagued by nightmares, and would often wake up screaming. Graham had offered to take Snow's bed, with her permission, and stay with Henry. He had reasoned that it would be better for both of them if she didn't push too hard, too fast. Henry, though slightly downtrodden by the idea, had begrudgingly agreed.

Emma knew that Henry's apprehension to the idea of Graham taking care of him had absolutely nothing to do with Graham, and everything to do with the fact that the poor boy just wanted his mother back. Though she hadn't been impressed by the idea, Emma had agreed.

That first night, Emma had laid in bed wide awake. Thinking over the day's events, and how she was going to go about fixing everything. So when she heard the blood curdling scream waft in from downstairs, she had leapt from the bed quickly and stomped her way down the stairs. Without even a second to over think her next actions, she had run into the room. At first she had to look away from the scene as her chest tightened slightly. Graham was whispering to Henry who was sobbing into his chest. Swallowing passed the new found fear that had bubbled up into her throat, Emma walked into the bedroom. Sinking down beside Graham, she had barely touched Henry's shoulder before he clambered into her lap. Emma's heart swelled slightly as he tucked his head against her shoulder.

After a few minutes his sobs slowly came to a stop as a few hiccups took their place. Emma continued to sit there, as she rubbed his back. Her eyes were slowly dragging closed every few seconds. Graham took Henry from her, and laid him down on the bed. Henry had tried to protest the move, but Emma quickly climbed in beside him. He curled up against her side, and Emma fought the urge to recoil from the closeness.

Graham had bent down beside her. "I'll just go crash on the couch, in case you need me."

Emma shook her head. "Please. Stay with me."

He nodded softly, before walking around the bed and climbing in on Henry's opposite side. Emma sighed softly, as she found herself running her fingers through Henry's hair. It didn't bother her, not like she had thought that it would, and found that the motion was soothing to her. It wasn't long until she found herself sound asleep.

"Emma." Henry's small, sleepy voice broke Emma from her thoughts.

She looked to her left at Henry. He was facing away from her, toward the wall. Her hand was in his hair, as it was every night since that first night, as she simply tried to soothe herself to sleep right along with him.

"Yes, Henry?" Emma asked.

She could tell from the cringe that whatever she had said, or however she had said it was not what he was used to. A talk with Snow was in order. If anything, she could at least find a way to make it less uncomfortable to be around Henry. Baby steps, right? She was more than comfortable around Graham. Though she still found it a little unnerving just how comfortable she was with him. Enough to be vulnerable around him, and that was a little disconcerting to say the least.

"Would you read me a story? I'm just—I'm not very tired-" Emma watched as he quickly turned his head. He wasn't quick enough to hide the slight hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Of course." Emma thought for a minute before realizing she didn't know any stories. Was she just supposed to come up with one? "What would you like me to tell you a story of?"

Henry turned slightly so that he was laying more on his back. His head lulled toward her, as a lazy smile crept onto his face. "You can just read from my storybook. It should still be under your nightstand."

Emma nodded. Storybook. Right. The book that apparently held her story—her parents story—Snow White and Prince Charming. Try as she might, Emma couldn't bring herself to believe that. Who could?

She leaned over the side of the bed and peered under the nightstand. The book was exactly where he said it was. Emma grunted slightly as she felt the full weight of the book. "Well. That is one heavy book."

Henry chuckled. "Yeah. Try carrying it around all the time." he mumbled as he turned back toward the wall.

Emma flipped the book open and took in the pictures, before finding a story. She chuckled to herself as she landed on Snow White and Prince Charming's first meeting. Glancing over toward Henry, she slowly started to read the story. Halfway through the story, Emma noticed that Henry's breathing had evened out and that he was fast asleep. Glancing back down at the book she continued to read, until the last word came into view. Her eyes were drooping by that point. Slowly, she closed the leather bound book, and shoved it back onto her nightstand.

"Goodnight, Henry." Emma mumbled, before turning the light out.

Rolling onto her side, so that she was facing Henry, Emma found her eyes close fast. She slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

Emma felt tears slid down her cheeks at an alarming rate. She rubbed at her bulging stomach as her mind replayed the conversation she had with Jason thirty minutes earlier. Her eyes found the tequila bottle sitting on the kitchen table. In the past six months she hadn't so much had the thought of having a drink, but right now that was all she wanted. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she quickly disregarded it. Emma knew she would never do anything that would purposely harm her unborn child.

"I guess it's just you and me." She sighed, as she rubbed against the bulging flesh. A sad smile crossed her lips as she felt a hefty kick against her palm. "Your mad at him too?" Normally Emma would have found it ridiculous talking to her stomach, but she was alone in the house and soon she would be alone in the world. The thought made her angry. This baby—deserved to know its father. Deserved to have a father in its life. However, instead of wanting to be involved with his child, Garrett was off screwing someone else.

Emma shoved herself up off the couch, and waited for a moment as she regained her balance. She paced the floor for moment, before her eyes landed on an object in the corner. "Bastard!" Emma screamed, before moving toward the baseball bat leaning against the wall closest to the door. She knew that this descion had the chance to totally screw up her life. Garrett was a vengeful bastard after all.

Squaring her shoulders, with a smoldering heat firing in her eyes, Emma grabbed the bat in her hand. Without another thought, afraid of chickening out, Emma grabbed the keys and made the short walk to her car. The drive was a blur of reds and greens as she pulled up in front of the apartment building that held the address she had been given. She would have to thank Garrett's best friend, Jason, later. At least he had the ability of being honest with her. Something that her boyfriend seemed to lack. Though, Jason might be less than pleased when he found out what his information caused her to do.

A sadistic smile crossed her lips as she spotted his car. His precious baby. Emma had to admit that the late model Mustang was beautiful, and it would kill her to take her anger out on the poor unsuspecting car. That would only last until she saw Garrett's face when he found out that his precious car had been vandalized.

Stepping out of the car, which was becoming a difficult process, Emma pulled the bat out behind her. Slowly, she walked up to the powder blue car. Taking a deep breath, Emma closed her eyes before raising the bat above her head and smashing it down on the trunk of the car. A satisfied smile crossed her lips at the sound of wood meeting metal. Cracking her eyes open, the deep dent gave her a bigger sense of accomplishment. Without a second thought, she reared back and smashed out the window. A crunching sound filled the silent air, as Emma stepped around the shattered glass that now littered the sidewalk. Pulling back again, Emma whaled the bat against the passenger-side door a couple of times. She pulled up short the third time, satisfied with large dent that now littered the door.

She made a move to the windshield, when a door slammed behind her. Emma knew better than to turn around. She knew that it would be smartest to start moving back toward her car. Yet, her anger overtook her brain, and she let a cocky grin cross her lips before turning around.

"What in the hell! You stupid bitch!" Garrett squealed, his eyes wide as he took in his prized Mustang. "That car is a classic!"

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. They lay comfortably on top of her ever growing stomach. "Yeah—well now it's a classic pile of shit."

Garrett stalked his way down the stairs. His eyes glued to the car until his feet hit the bottom step. The sound of glass crunching under his shoe caught his attention. Looking down, he felt heat build inside him as his cheeks flamed red. He glared at Emma as he advanced toward her. "You are going to pay for this!" His finger jabbed at the empty air.

Emma swallowed past the lump in her throat. All her previous bravado left quickly as Garrett's face darkened. She felt the baby kick against her stomach. The baby. He could hurt the baby. Emma couldn't let that happen. "Garrett—please. The baby."

"Screw the baby. This is between me and you!"

Emma felt tears press against her eyes. Biting her lip to keep them in place. She didn't know what to do. He was too close for her to retreat away, and make it safely to her car. Even if she did, he knew how to find her. She wasn't safe. He would kill her for this. She had seen him attempt that for a lot less.

Garrett was almost within striking distance, his arms outstretched. His fingers itching to clench her neck and squeeze the life right out of her. Just a couple of more steps. His eyes widen as Emma swung the bat back and he watched in frozen horror as the bat came back and connected with his knee.

Emma gasped as she watched Garrett crumple to the ground, his hands gripping his knee. When had she given the order to hit Garrett with the bat? She didn't remember that. Walking toward him, she looked down at him and saw the anger growing. It was too late now. Lifting the bat again, she hit him hard in the chest and once more in the side. Emma was fairly certain she heard something crack, but she couldn't be sure.

The door from the apartment building slammed again. "You psycho bitch! I called the cops. They're on their way!"

Emma looked up. The woman cowered on the front stoop, her index finger being assaulted by her teeth. In the distance she could hear sirens and knew that it was too late now.

A scream pierced the air as Emma sat bolt upright. "What in the hell," she whispered to herself. Frantically she looked around the room, and started to calm down slowly.

Pitching a look over her shoulder, she saw that Henry was still sleeping soundly. Sighing, she pulled back her blanket and stood up. Her pajamas were covered in a thin coat of sweat. What in the world was that dream all about? She shook her head, trying to clear it, as she padded toward the stairs. Quietly, she descended them, and tip-toed past a sleeping Graham into the kitchen.

"Emma. What are you doing up?"

Turning toward the voice, she cringed. Snow stood awkwardly on her crutches. Her short hair was disheveled, and her eyes were droopy.

"I—uh-" she sighed before continuing, "I had a bad dream."

Snow frowned deeply. "Would you like to talk about it?"

Emma eyed her for a moment. She had promised to try—this would be an effort—right? "Sure. I was just going to fix some cocoa, would you like some?"

Snow smiled softly. "Of course."

Emma chuckled lightly before heading toward the stove. A nice, warm cup of cocoa, she'd share her dream with Snow, and then go back to bed. If anything, Emma was hoping talking about it would stop it from continuing to haunt her dreams.

A few minutes later, Emma joined Snow at the table and slid a mug across the table. She stared at the dark liquid in front of her for a moment. "So this dream. Apparently, I was dating some douche-bag and I was pregnant. I took a bat to his car and he was going to hurt me—hurt the baby-" Emma sighed. This was the part she didn't want to say. "So I attacked him with the bat. Someone called the cops." Emma couldn't find it in herself to look up from her mug of cocoa. She couldn't face the look that she knew would be on Snow's face. Hell, Emma didn't want to see the look on her face. It felt so real. All of it. The anger. The pain—the pleasure. That was the part that was tripping her up, that made her feel so horrible. The amount of pleasure that her dream-self felt when she had welded the bat, not only on the car—but on the douche-bag boyfriend.

Snow was glad that Emma wasn't looking at her. She knew that she couldn't wipe the look of shock off her face, and Snow didn't want Emma thinking it was because of the violent dream. Had Emma really recovered a memory via dream? Was that even possible? Snow was so happy she felt like she could jump for joy, but that happiness was quelled by the look on Emma's face. Out of all the memories Emma could have recovered, it had to be _that_ one.

"What do you think that means?" Emma finally asked.

Snow just gaped at Emma, unsure of what to say. She sighed before she spoke. "I don't know. I honestly—don't know." The last part was merely a whisper. All Snow could think was that her daughter might be getting her memory back, but the look on Emma's face said that Emma wasn't happy with what she saw. The last five months had been trying on all of them, but especially Emma. These past five months had changed her—though there were still pieces of her daughter that popped up occasionally, for the most part, Emma was becoming someone else. What if this new person doesn't like the person that she used to be? Where would that leave them?

* * *

_**A/N: So...plot development. I know you've all been wondering what's going on-and if this story was actually going somewhere. Well-it is. I'm still a little undecided as to WHERE it's going-but it is going somewhere-hopefully soon. Read and Review. It's known to make me write faster! **_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: This one is a little shorter than normal, but it's ripe and full of angst. So, enjoy! **

* * *

Emma sat on the floor in her room. Her back against the bed, as her eyes sagged slightly. She had vehemently refused to go to sleep for fear that the nightmare she had would return the moment she closed her eyes. It wouldn't have been so bad, aside from the fact that she had nearly beaten someone to death in her nightmare. Except that this nightmare felt too real. Like she had actually been there—like she had lived it, but that was crazy, right? That nightmare—it couldn't be a recovered memory could it? For an hour she had sat on the floor of her bedroom, silent tears rushing down her cheeks while she tried to figure out what in the hell that dream had meant. After an hour, Emma had only succeeded in giving herself a splitting headache and coming to the frightening conclusion that the nightmare could very easily be a recovered memory. That was the only way she could explain herself beating some douche-bag to near death, when she had never met the man, at least not as far as she knew.

Snow hadn't given her much in the form of answers when she had sat down to talk to her. There was a slight edge to the woman's voice when she had said she didn't know what it meant. As far as Emma had thought about it, Snow's facial expression had changed, if only slightly, for a brief moment. A hint of shock littered her features for the briefest moment before she slid an unreadable mask back into place. Was Snow keeping something from her?

Emma was brought back to the present by a sudden grunting behind her. She looked down at the storybook in her lap, and realized that she had been on the same page since she had opened the book to get her mind off of the dream. Gazing at the clock on her nightstand, she groaned. Two hours. That was how long she had been sitting on the floor, analyzing and over-analyzing her dream.

Emma shoved the storybook back onto the bottom shelf of her nightstand, before standing up. Her body cracked and popped the whole time, and she grimaced as her back fought against the movement. She stretched for a moment, hoping to force the tightness from her lower back. When the pain only increased with her movements, she gave up on her task and stared down at Henry.

How involved in her own thoughts had she been? A sheen of sweat had broken out on Henry's forehead. It was much the same from every other time he had a nightmare. A twinge of pain coursed through her heart at the fact that she hadn't even heard him call out. Had he called out?

Sighing, Emma crawled back into bed beside him. Almost immediately she felt heat encroaching on her body, and her nose wrinkled. She had been freezing when she had been sitting on the floor. It hit her then, when she looked back down at Henry. He moaned, before tossing around on the bed for a moment, before burying his face back into his pillow.

Emma placed her hand against his cheek and felt the heat radiating from it. "Shit." she whispered, before standing back up. Snow had to have some sort of medication for fevers, right? As soon as her hand touched the door knob, a scream pierced the air and Emma ran back to the bed.

Tears streamed down Henry's face, as he panted for a breath. "Ssh. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere." Emma murmured softly, as she slowly rocked him back into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Snow sighed, as she sipped the remainder of her hot cocoa from the mug in front of her. Her eyes found the clock on the wall, and groaned loudly. Almost two hours. That was how long it had been since she had talked with Emma. Had heard her recall her nightmare in an offhanded way. Like she was trying to push herself as far away from the dream as she could. Snow had tried to mask her surprise at Emma's words carefully, so as to not make Emma feel like she had done anything wrong, but the blank expression she knew had covered her face felt false. Had it looked as fake as it had felt?

Her fingers toyed with the mug, scooting it across the table. Bouncing it from hand to hand. So, the throat clearing that broke through her inner musings, startled her. A yelp escaped her lips, as she tried to bit back the scream that had built up in her throat, if only to not wake Graham.

Looking up to figure out where the noise had come from, she found herself staring back into her husband's bright blue eyes. He smiled softly at her, before sitting in the same seat that Emma had accompanied two hours earlier.

"Did I wake you?" Snow whispered softly, as her hand reached across the table to snatch James' hand.

"Not exactly," he shrugged, "I woke up because your side of the bed was cold and empty."

Snow smiled softly at him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I was having trouble sleeping, so I made myself cocoa."

James nodded, "For two hours?"

Her eyebrow raised slightly, "Spying on me?"

He chuckled lightly. "No. I woke up, when you got out of bed. You're not exactly graceful right now." Snow's eyebrows shot up at his remark, before he continued. "I figured you were having trouble getting comfortable with that horrendous cast on your foot. I must have dozed off again, because the next time I looked at the clock, I saw that you had been gone for two hours, I got worried."

"I'm sorry. Emma had a nightmare, so I was talking to her about it."

James eyed Snow wearily, and noticed that something was troubling her. Though she was typically pretty good at hiding her feelings with those masks she was able to put into place, something that he realized that Emma had inherited from Snow, she was never able to hide her true feelings from her eyes. It was only after they had been together for a while that he noticed the difference, slight as it might be, from what her face was saying and what her eyes were saying.

"What happened, Snow?"

She sighed, loudly. "She thought it was a nightmare, James. I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was a recovered memory." his eyebrows shot up at that, before Snow continued. "she was remembering when she assaulted Garrett—or—Baelfire." Snow rolled her eyes. "She was so scared. How was I supposed to tell her that the thing that was scaring her had actually happened?"

James stared at Snow for a moment. His eyebrow furrowing as he thought about what she had just said. The words made sense, anything, really could bring Emma's memory back. Perhaps, even unconsciously, she had been fighting the forth coming memory, and that was why she had dreamt it. Either way, he could understand why Snow hadn't wanted to tell Emma that her dream was more than just that, that there was truth behind it. He understood it, but understanding it didn't mean that he thought that her decision had been the correct one. In reality, he knew that what Snow had done, even if trying to protect Emma, was ultimately going to set her back. Especially if she found out the truth.

His mouth bobbed open to speak, as a gasp sounded from their right, and both of their heads snapped toward the direction of the noise.

* * *

Emma waited for a few minutes as Henry's breathing evened out. Placing her hand against his forehead again, she grimaced. If anything his temperature had gone up. Once she was certain that he wasn't going to wake up again, she climbed back out of bed. Padding quietly to the door, she left it open a crack to ensure that she could hear Henry if he needed her while she was downstairs.

Quietly, two at a time, Emma took the steps. Her nose wrinkled slightly when the last step groaned lightly. She eyed Graham's sleeping form on the couch, and stood still for a moment to make sure that she hadn't woken him. As soon as she was certain that he was still very much asleep, she walked quietly toward the kitchen. Hushed whispers could be heard emanating from the darkened room, and Emma's eyebrow raised slightly. Curiosity got the better of her. She stood so that she would remain unseen by the occupants as she listened in on the conversation.

Immediately, she realized that Snow and James were talking about her. At first she couldn't quite make out what was being said, until one sentence stuck in her mind. The thing she had been most afraid of, was actually truth? Her dream—her nightmare—it wasn't really a nightmare. Emma tried to swallow past the lump that had formed in her throat, but found she couldn't. She gasped out a broken sob as she realized that Snow had known that what she had been dreaming was in fact a recovered memory. Snow had kept that fact from her, and Emma couldn't hardly see straight. The feeling of betrayal and anger flowed through her like a rippling pool.

Stalking past both of them, Emma walked straight into the bathroom. Yanking the medicine cabinet open with more force than she probably needed to, Emma rummaged through the cabinet. A pained shriek escaped her lips when what she was seeking could not be found. All she wanted was some damn Tylenol for Henry's fever. That was all she wanted, and she couldn't even find that.

Emma barely registered the fact that someone had walked into the bathroom. It wasn't until that person touched her shoulder, that she realized that she was no longer alone. Her head snapped, at neck break speed, toward the intruder. A glower covered her features, as her upper lips snarled back slightly.

"Just leave me alone." her words came out cold and tainted with the pain and betrayal she felt.

"Let me help you, sweetheart." Snow spoke softly. The crutches were the only thing holding her upright, and Emma felt the desire to shove past her—even if that meant knocking her off her feet. The unbridled fury coursing through her veins was making it hard for her to think straight.

"No!" she roared. "Why should I? All you do is lie and keep things to yourself. Your a hypocrite. You know that? You want me to be open and honest, but you can't even give me the same benefit? Screw you." Emma turned her attention back to the medicine cabinet. She rummaged through it for a moment longer, before grabbing at a washcloth that hung limply from the wall. Wetting it under the cool water for a moment, Emma wrung the excess water from the cloth, before turning her glower back to Snow. "Buy some damn Tylenol. Henry's sick."

With that, Emma shoved passed Snow, and stalked back through the kitchen. Graham stood at the bottom of the stairs. His tee shirt was twisted from his restless sleeping pattern, his curly hair was sticking up at odd angles. Under any other circumstance Emma would have found it hilarious, but this wasn't a normal circumstance, and she was pissed. "Not now." Emma said, her voice only slightly softer than the stone, cold tone she had used with Snow. Shoving passed him, Emma climbed the stairs in record time and all but slammed her bedroom door behind her.


	7. Chapter 7

Emma woke the next morning to the sound of knuckles tapping on her bedroom door. She groaned as the night before came flooding back to the forefront of her mind. Turning over, she placed the back of her hand against Henry's forehead. It was still warm, but his temperature had gone down slightly. If anything, it did ease a bit of the tension that had her muscles screaming at her.

The knuckles sounded again, and Emma rolled her eyes. Standing up, she already made the decision that if it was Snow on the other side of the door, than she might be slamming it in her face. She was the only person that was sharing the small apartment that Emma definitely did not want to see. Pulling the door open just far enough to see who was standing on the other side, she groaned. "James."

"Snow was going to run out last night to get this, but I made her go back to bed. I didn't want to risk her hurting her ankle any worse. So, I ran out this morning and picked up some." he thrust the box toward her.

Though Emma was still pissed, she knew that deep down she wasn't angry at James. He hadn't hidden anything from her, that had been all Snow. Opening the door wider, she offered James the opportunity to walk inside. She looked down at the box in her hand, and smiled softly. "I didn't even think to ask for the children's version." Her lips puckered up slightly as her brow furrowed. "Was I this bad at the whole mom thing before?"

James chuckled lightly. "No. You were a great mother, still are. That little boy adores you, even if you don't remember it."

Emma opened the box of Advil and pulled the bottle out. Her nose wrinkled as she unscrewed the top. "Did you happen-" Emma started as James thrust a spoon toward her hand. "Wow, you think of everything." She smiled softly at him, before pouring the correct amount of medicine onto the spoon. "Well, this just looks absolutely disgusting. I almost feel bad that I have to make him take it."

James leaned his back against the wall, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He watched as Emma gently shook Henry with her free hand.

Henry groaned, before turning toward her. "I'm still sleepy. Do I have to get up?" His voice was raspy, and Emma's brow furrowed.

"You can still sleep, just as soon as you take this medicine."

This time Henry moaned. He reached out for Emma's pillow and threw it dramatically over his face. "No." he rasped from behind the pillow.

"Henry, please." Emma prodded.

James bit his lip to keep from laughing as Henry shook his head back and forth to indicate that he was once again refusing the medication.

"For me?" Emma asked, as she sat on the edge of the bed.

Henry pulled the pillow back a fraction of an inch. A frown etched on his face. "But it's so gross!" he whined.

"I know, but it'll help you feel better. You do want to feel better, right?"

Henry groaned, before sitting up. "Fine." he mumbled, before opening his mouth as Emma shoved the spoon full of medicine in his mouth. Henry winced at the way the medicine burned his already aching throat, and again at the rancid taste it left in his mouth. "Water?"

James tapped Emma on the shoulder. She rolled her eyes as she grabbed the glass of water she hadn't even noticed that he had been holding. "Here." Emma helped Henry sit up a little further to ensure that he didn't choke on the water as he gulped it down.

"Okay, you can lay back down-"

"Henry, wait. Do you mind laying down on the couch so that Graham and grandma can watch you? I need to talk to Emma alone."

Emma breathed deeply through her nose, before turning a disapproving glare onto James.

"Sure." Henry crawled off the bed, dragging the comforter with him. He made it to the door before his legs gave out on him.

"Don't worry." James spoke toward Emma, as his arms reached out to steady Henry. The door opened to show Graham standing on the other side.

"Hey, buddy. How're you feeling?" When all he received was a groan from Henry, Graham winced. "That good, huh?" Graham threw a sympathetic glance toward Emma, before hefting Henry into his arms and moving toward the stairs.

James shut the door quickly, before turning back toward Emma. "We need to talk."

Emma was almost certain that she didn't like where this conversation was headed. With her arms crossed against her chest, mirroring James almost exactly, she sat further back on the bed, her back against the wall. "So, talk." she prodded, one eyebrow lifted expectantly.

* * *

Snow sighed softly, as she watched Graham tuck Henry in comfortably on the couch. "How is he?"

Graham peered over the top of the couch, "He's pretty sick. From what I heard at the door, Emma had some trouble getting the poor kid to take the Advil."

Snow nodded, though she had never witnessed Emma actually caring for a sick Henry, she could only imagine how that interaction had went. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?"

Graham sighed, as he sauntered forward and sat in an empty chair in front of her. He rubbed his hands against his face. Graham had no idea how to answer that question. From what he knew of Emma, his first answer would be a definite no. Emma had never come off as a particularly forgiving person, and though Emma didn't know about it, Snow had given Graham bits and pieces about her childhood. To be fair, Snow needed someone to talk to, and Graham just wanted to know the woman he loved better. It wasn't done in malice, it was simply just information sharing. Given what Snow had told him, he was able to disconcert that Emma wouldn't under normal circumstances forgive Snow for what she had done, at least not easily.

However, this was in no way a normal circumstance and even if Emma held most of her personality, parts of it had changed, if only slightly. Under these new circumstances, Graham did firmly believe that Emma would forgive Snow. It wouldn't be an easy task, that much he knew for certain. Snow was going to have to work for her forgiveness, and work even harder to regain the trust that Emma had only recently given her.

"I think she could-" he paused as Snow's face crumpled. The sheer amount of pain radiating in her eyes only served to break his heart. "Let me finish, Snow. Please." She nodded, and he leaned forward. "It's going to take some time and a lot of effort on your part. You know this as much as I do. A person doesn't even fully heal once their soul has been broken, and Emma's has only been glued back into place. To have her faith in you shattered, it has most likely punctured a new hole into her soul. I haven't seen her so _hurt_-"

Snow shook her head. She didn't want to believe Graham's words, even if she knew them to be true. She had only been trying to protect her daughter. That's all she's ever wanted was to keep Emma safe, especially since she found out how truly fragile and damaged her daughter was. The look on Emma's face the previous night, however, held a multiude of many emotions, but the one that shone through bright and heavy, had been anger. "She only really shows the anger-" Snow paused, and held up her hand to stop Graham from speaking, "unless you know what you're looking for. Then you can see the hurt. As much as I'd love not to admit it, and as much as I'd love it not to be true, Emma was very hurt by what I did." Snow's face fell, as tears pricked her eyes.

Graham smiled sadly. "That would be her wall, standing tall and angry as ever. What I've noticed is when she's hurt, she gets angry. Emma doesn't relish in being hurt, especially when someone she trusted hurt her. So, yes I think she can forgive you. I just think it will take some time—or a miracle."

Snow sighed, her head falling into her hands. "I just wish I had been honest with her."

"Eventually, she'll understand why you weren't, but she's scared right now. I think she's terrified of the person she used to be. All she ever sees or hears about is how angry she used to be. She's yet to see the good side of herself. How amazing she was—how big of a heart she had. Once she sees that part of herself, the rest will follow."

Snow offered a small smile. "You really do love her."

"With everything in me." Graham blushed slightly.

* * *

James sat perched on the edge of the bed. His hands clasped in front of him, while he mulled over what he wanted to say. He knew that his daughter was much like a wounded animal, approach too quickly and you're likely to get mauled. He sighed deeply, before running his hands over his face. James also knew that he wasn't about to let Emma get away with how she had treated Snow last night.

"About last night."

Emma immediately threw her hand up. "I don't want to talk about it."

James chuckled. "Okay, that's fine." Emma arched her eyebrow, before James continued, "however, you will be listening to what I have to say on the matter."

Emma laughed mirthlessly, "Will I now?"

James nodded, turning to face his daughter. "You might not have any actual memories of being my daughter, but that doesn't change the fact that it's true. One thing that I learned from my memory loss was that it was better to have people treat me as they would if I did remember who I was, more so than to lie about anything-"

Emma barked out a laugh. "Perhaps you should be talking to _**her**_." Emma spat the last word out like it left a bad taste in her mouth.

James frowned deeply, his brow furrowing. "I'm going to be honest with you, Emma. I didn't agree with how your mother handled your _dream_ but I do understand _why_ she did it. Snow only wanted to protect you. Since day one, that is all she has wanted. Everything she has ever done has been for you. Which is why I want to have this talk with you. Now, I'm going to assume that Snow or Graham have at least attempted to talk to you about the curse?"

Emma nodded, "You expect me to believe that your all cursed fairytale characters?"

James chuckled, the mood becoming lighter with the change in subject. "I don't expect anything from you, Emma. Not in accordance to what you believe or don't believe. You believed in it once, and you'll find your way there again; it's just a matter of time. The only reason I bring it up, is to explain to you the depth of Snow's attempts to do right by you."

Emma sighed, her arms were still crossed, but James could tell that they weren't as tightly bound as they had been just a few minutes earlier.

"This curse, it was designed to take away all of our happy endings, especially Snow's. Regina was angry at her, and blamed all of her unhappiness on Snow. Because of that, she created a curse that sent all of us here from the Enchanted Forest. None of us were to remember who we were or where we came from, and your mother and I had previous knowledge of the impending curse. Snow was supposed to go through the wardrobe while she was still pregnant, and take care of you so that you could break the curse. Snow went into labor early, and she made the only choice that she could-"

Emma's nose wrinkled. "So if your crazy and totally unbelievable story was to be believed, then what you're telling me is that you magically sent a newborn baby to some unknown land, by itself?"

James' head hung. Even if it was the truth, having it told to him that way was absolutely heartbreaking. It was at times like this, and he knew that Snow had thought about the same things, that James had to question if sending Emma through was the right thing. Deep down he knew it was, it had been the only option to keep Emma safe.

"Unfortunately we weren't given another option. If you could have seen how badly it broke Snow's heart to give you up—I still hear her screams in my sleep sometimes. It was the single, most heartwrenching decision that a parent would ever have to make. To simply give their child away, and to do it the way we had to." James sighed. "I'm getting off topic-" he paused, trying to collect his thoughts, "when you moved to Storybrooke, Snow's cursed personality, Mary Margaret became your best friend. You told her stories, not many but enough, of your childhood. When you broke the curse, Snow still held those memories. She cried herself to sleep many nights, when those thoughts overtook her mind and she realized how all of it was her fault. I tried to explain to her that it wasn't, but that coupled with the fact that you were angry, as you had every right to be, with us."

Emma stared at James, the man that claimed to be her father, and felt taken aback by the fact that her gut was screaming at her that he was telling the truth. He couldn't be, because it was absolutely ridiculous, wasn't it?

"I wish I could believe all of that."

James patted her knee. "I don't need you to believe it, I just need you to feel it. The look on your face is all the answer I need." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm not asking you to run down those stairs and forgive her straight away. What I'm asking is to give her the benefit of the doubt, and to acknowledge the fact that she was only trying to protect you."

Emma nodded. She could do that, right? He wasn't asking her to forgive Snow, just asking for the possibility that forgiveness could be attainable. Emma could do that, she was fairly certain she could. "I can try."

James smiled. "That's all I can really ask for." he stood up and walked toward the door, only stopping when his hand landed on the knob. "And Emma," he paused, glancing over his shoulder, "you have an entire apartment full of people that want to help you. Let us, please." With that, he opened the door and left the room.

Emma sighed, her ridged body collapsing against the bed. Everything that James had just said flowing through her brain. He was the third person to mention this curse thing, and he spoke of it with such conviction, that Emma was almost entitled to believe him. It was stupid, though. There was no way that her _parents, _where in fact fairytale characters. She had given into the fact that they wanted to be called Snow and James, but the rest was ridiculous. It made no sense. Without her realizing it, Emma's body started to relax and her eyes started to droop close. She didn't realize how exhausted she was as she slowly started to drift off to sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

Emma stared straight ahead, a smile dancing at the edges of her lips. Graham grabbed the first aid kit with ease, and turned toward her, a frown etched on his lips.

He sighed, pain evident in his blue eyes, "I'm sorry."

Emma was taken aback. He was apologizing to her? For what? What had he done, beside telling Regina off and taking back his life, and if she really was to admit to herself, getting sexier and sexier by the minute?

He glided forward, his arm outstretched, as he placed the icepack to her aching head. The cut on the left side of her head was fairly small, and didn't really acquire attention, but Emma wasn't going to push Graham away if he wanted to help her. Her hands reached up and took the icepack from his hands.

A look of hurt crossed his face for a split second, before disappearing again. "I don't know what came over me. Why I lost my mind." He turned back toward the first aid kit, his hand grabbing for the bottle of antiseptic.

Emma shook her head. She wasn't going to sit there and let him blame himself for something that wasn't his fault. He had been taken advantage of for far too long, and now that he was free of Regina, Emma wasn't going to allow him to wallow in self-pity, blaming himself for the punch she had taken.

"It's okay. You were tired and feverish-" she trailed off as she glanced up at the side of his face before continuing, "and heartbroken." The last part just sort of came out before she had a chance to stop it, a look of surprise clouded her features for a mere second before his head raised up and she schooled her appearance.

"I don't know why I let myself get caught up with her."

Emma felt something flutter in her chest at his words. The way he spoke, it was like the words he said were tiny hammers, smashing away at the remainder of her walls. She swallowed thickly for a moment, keeping her emotions in check, before speaking. "Because it was easy and safe." The sheer honesty of her words scared her. She hadn't even really been this honest with Mary Margaret before. Sure they had shared things, and Emma had blabbed her fair share of almost secrets, but this was nothing but pure, raw honesty. Emma was fairly certain that it was the way that Graham was staring at her, like she was the absolute, only girl in the world at that moment. No one, not even _him_, had looked at her like that before. "Not feeling anything is an attractive option when what you feel sucks."

That was it, like a sledgehammer had come through and taken down the last wall that had stood up. She was raw and open, and it scared her like never before. Her heart fluttered softly when one edge of his mouth curled up as he took in her words.

Slowly he removed the icepack from her hand, his eyes directly on her as he did so. She watched as his hand lifted toward her head, slowly brushing back a stray, strand of hair, his eyes intently on the small cut that Regina's fist had made, as he lifted his other arm and pressed a small piece of cloth against the cut.

Emma's eyes never strayed from his, until the cloth made contact with the cut. She hissed, and let out a string of curses in her mind, not wanting to ruin the moment. Never once did she think something so small, could hurt like such a bitch. "I felt that." Her lips curled up, and her eyes twinkled.

Graham chuckled lightly at her words, as a smile played across his lips, his eyes on hers with a strong intensity. With a slight blink, Graham sat back to working on cleaning the small cut, trying to ignore Emma's gaze. With a gentle smile, Graham pulled back one hand. "All better?" he asked, with one hand still grazing her cheek and neck.

Breathless from the intensity of his gaze, and the feel of his warm touch upon her skin, Emma answered, "Yeah."

He slowly recoiled his other hand, before placing it against her shoulder. He gazed at her for a moment longer before turning away. The electricity still tingled on her skin from the places his fingers had touched. He placed the cloth back onto the desk, before turning back around to face Emma. He leaned against the desk, as that same, dorky smile crossed his lips.

"What?" he asked, his voice endearing.

Emma didn't stop the smile that crept onto her lips. With her eyes on Graham's, Emma pushed herself off the desk she had been leaning against, and moved toward Graham. Her eyes never left his, as she approached closer. Softly, she sighed, before leaning in toward him. At the last moment her eyes drifted close, as her lips grazed against his. It was a soft, slow, and sensual kiss, and soon Graham's hands were on her back, as her hands found their way to his shoulders. One of his hands cupped her cheek as the kiss deepened, only slightly.

Suddenly he fell backward, his eyes wide. Emma's heart sped at the expression on his face, fearful that something was wrong with him. "Graham?" she questioned.

His breathing sped up, as she blinked her eyes a few times. "Are you okay?" she finally forced out.

Slowly, a smile crossed his lips, even if he was still breathing heavy. "I remember."

Emma's eyebrows knitted, as a look of confusion colored her face. "Graham?" Her heart was thumping hard in her chest.

He rose back to his full height; suddenly his face was serious. "I remember."

Emma's confusion only grew, the look almost frozen on her face. "You remember what?"

Slowly, Graham crept forward, his arms dangling at his sides. A tear slid down his cheek, as his hands slid up to cup her cheeks. Emma smiled softly at that gesture. "Thank you." A soft smile played on his face as he breathed out the words.

Slowly he leaned forward, his lips mere inches away from Emma's when he groaned out. His body jerked backward, before falling forward and bouncing off the desk.

Emma reached out to grab him, but he slipped just past her fingers. "Graham!" she shouted, as fear coursed through her body. Dropping to knees beside him, she shook his pale, lifeless form. "Graham!" More shaking, even though somewhere deep down she knew that it was no use. "Graham! Graham! GRAHAM!" Tears were slipping down her cheeks, and she didn't even think to stop them. He lay in her arms, lifeless.

A scream pierced the air, as Emma sat bolt upright. Sweat pouring from her face, as her body shook. Tears were slipping, unchecked, down her cheeks. The door was thrown open, and Emma almost half expected Snow to be standing on the other side. Her breathing hitched slightly, as Graham stared at her, alive and well, with worried eyes.

"Em! Em! Are you okay?" he called out.

Her arms were outstretched, her hands reaching out for him. He walked toward her, as her hands wrapped around the collar of his shirt pulling him to her body. Her body was wracked with sobs, as he held her close. It was so real, all of it. Slowly, as her sobs started to dwindle the thought hit her, what if it was another memory?

* * *

Henry started to mumble in his sleep. His body tossed and turned as sweat formed on his brow. Graham had been up in Emma's room for nearly ten minutes, the blood-curdling scream that had emanated from the loft room had jolted both of them to the bone. Snow had eyed the stairs wearily, wanting nothing more to comfort her daughter, even if Emma didn't want it, but knew that it would have taken her far too long and would have only served to cause her pain.

Instead, Graham had offered to check on Emma, so long as Snow kept a watchful eye on the increasingly irritable Henry. At this moment, Snow was cursing James for leaving to grab some food for everyone at Granny's.

"Henry," Snow finally called, when his hands clenched into fists. She couldn't quite make out what he was mumbling but he was becoming increasingly distressed.

"Henry!" her voice came out sharp as she shook him gently.

He jerked upright, his eyes wide. "Where's Emma? Where is my mom?" He called out.

Snow smiled softly, "She's still asleep upstairs, Henry. Graham is sitting with her right now. I'm sure she'll be down soon though."

He swallowed thickly as tears welled in his eyes. "I _need_ her." He bit his lip, as he looked down. "Sorry," he muttered.

Snow's eyebrow raised slightly, before pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. Still warm, though down considerably from earlier. "Why are you sorry?" she finally asked, even though she needed to get him some more Advil before his fever spiked again.

"I'm supposed to be strong—I just-" he sighed, his head hanging. "Just forget about it, okay?" he asked, as he settled back against the couch.

Snow's brow furrowed, if she couldn't comfort Emma, she would comfort Henry. Grabbing one of his hands in hers, she turned toward him, fully. "Henry, what were you dreaming about?"

His eyes flit around the room, as he attempted to keep his emotions in check. It was something that she had seen Emma do on more than one occasion. It was obviously something he had picked up from her. "I was back in the library, and _he_ had a gun pointed at me," he swallowed again and winced at the pain that flared in his throat. "Emma was there, trying to save me..." tears welled in his eyes, and he shut them tightly and groaned as one slipped past his perimeter.

"I watched him shoot her again, Grandma. There was nothing I could do but watch and scream," he was crying now, despite his attempts to control his emotions.

"Oh, Henry!" Snow cooed, as she pulled him against her body. His tears soaked her shirt and his body jerked with silence sobs.

"I—was—so—scared!" he cried out, his fists gripping the fabric of Snow's shirt tightly.

"Ssh. It's okay, Henry. Your mother is fine; she is right upstairs. Everything will be okay."

He pulled back, rubbing his hands against his cheeks. "No, it won't. Emma doesn't remember anything, and what if _she _comes back," he forced out, never once forgetting that his adoptive mother was there the entire time that his so-called father held him hostage, a bargaining chip to lure Emma into the library, to kill her.

"If Regina returns, Henry, we will defeat her. Good always defeats evil."

Henry shook his head. "Maybe not. Look at what it did to my mom, to grandpa."

Snow's heart broke at the defeated look on Henry's face, but she didn't know what she could do to help him, to make him feel better. Slowly, she leaned down, pressing her lips against the crown of his head.

"No matter what happens, you are loved. Emma loves you. James loves you. Graham loves you, and so do I. We will always make sure that you are safe, no matter what."

"And Emma? Who makes sure that she's safe?"

Snow smiled sadly at him. "Your grandfather and I do, Henry. We will always keep her safe, we will always put her first."

He nodded, wiping under his nose, before sniffling.

"Now, I'm going to get you some more medicine. James should be returning from Granny's soon, he picked you up some soup, are you hungry?"

Henry smiled softly. "Yeah."

"Good." Snow whispered, as she pulled herself up onto her crutches and disappeared into the kitchen.

* * *

Emma wrapped her arms around her knees, while she stared at Graham. The wide-eyed look of concern wasn't proving to help calm her frazzled nerves. She bit her lip hard to keep the new wave of emotion at bay, while she stared at him. That dream had seemed so real, just like before. Did that mean that it was real?

"Emma, please. Talk to me," Graham begged, as he reached his hand toward her.

She fought the urge to recoil from his touch, knowing that the single feel of his warm skin against hers would cause her to breakdown again.

"You—were—dead," she explained slowly. When his brow furrowed, she sighed. "In my dream, I watched you die. There was nothing I could do but scream your name. You died! You were dead." Suddenly the images from her dream started to replay in her minds eye. Emma screwed her eyes closed trying to wish the images away.

"Emma-" he sighed, as he scooted closer to her. Both of his hands went to her cheeks, cupping them softly. His thumb caught a single tear as it trickled down her cheek. "I did die." He looked at her, and sighed, "It wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."

Shaking her head, Emma took a deep breath. "If my dream was a memory—then I think it was."

Graham leaned forward, pulling Emma into his arms. "No. It was Regina's fault. She's the one that took my heart—she's the one that crushed it. It was her fault, Emma."

Pulling back, Emma eyed him skeptically. "Took your heart?"

Sighing, Graham ran a weary hand over his face. "It's more fairytale stuff. I know you don't believe, Emma, and that's fine, it really is. I just have one question for you-" she pulled her head back enough to meet his eyes, "If the fairytale stuff isn't true, then how am I alive?"

Suddenly it hit her like a ton of bricks. Graham was right. If they weren't fairytale characters and there wasn't magic then, how was he alive right now? How was he looking at her with those eyes that melt her very heart to the core? How was most of anything that's she's seen recently happening if magic and fairy-tales aren't real?

However, coming to the realization herself and saying the words were two totally different things. Just thinking the words makes her feel ridiculous, and as much as she would love to tell Graham he is right, if only to see that smile that she loved light up his face, she couldn't. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his and stared deeply into his blue orbs.

"Thank you."

One side of his lips lifted in an odd, sort of crooked, insanely sexy smile. "For?"

Emma found herself smiling back, slightly relieved. "For being you." Softly, Emma brushed her lips against his, before turning around and laying her head in his lap. Slowly, Graham brushed his fingers against her blonde curls.

Emma knew she needed to get up and check on Henry, even if Snow was watching him, to see how he was feeling. Her stomach grumbled nosily as the thought hit her, she hadn't eaten all day. Then there was the situation with Snow, and as much as she would love to put that talk off for a while longer, the talk with James and Graham having drained most of her resolve, she knew that it couldn't. She had a decision to make, and she would prefer to have Snow's opinion on the matter before she actually made it.


	9. Chapter 9

_**A/N:** _So, this chapter was a whole lot harder to write than I had originally thought it would be. I also have no clear plot line as far as where this is going and how to end it. So I am open to suggestions. If I use your idea, I will give you a shout out in the author's note! As always, thanks to my wonderful beta, Shopowner93.

* * *

James groaned as he carried two big brown sacks gripped tightly in both of his hands and a white plastic bag slung haphazardly over his right wrist. He ascended the last flight of stairs, taking them as quickly as he dared, until he came to the correct landing. With a silent prayer, James repositioned himself so that he could knock on the door with his elbow. He counted a couple of beats of silence before someone yelled out that they were coming. James was fairly certain it was Snow who had called out, and his guess was confirmed when the door flung open to his wife staggering wearily on the crutches under her arms.

Fighting the urge to chuckle at the uncertainty on her face, he waited until she backed up enough for him to pass by comfortably. He didn't want to risk knocking her down in his haste to release the bags from his hands. In a couple of quick strides, James found himself at the kitchen table, where he quickly deposited the two brown bags and removed the white plastic one from around his wrist. He cringed slightly, as he flexed his fingers a few times to regain the use of them and to bring back feeling to the numb appendages.

"Hi, Grandpa." Henry called from the couch. James turned around a little shocked to see Henry rising from the couch and stand on his own without stumbling.

"Hey, Henry. How're you feeling?"

A sigh sounded from the young boy, as he shrugged. "A little better, but not great." his explanation was followed by a loud sneeze. Wiping his sleeve across his nose, he eyed the containers that James had started to remove from the brown bags. "Grandma said that you were bringing me soup?" he questioned lightly as he licked his lips. Henry hadn't even noticed just how hungry he was until he saw the food.

"I did indeed. I hope you like chicken noodle. It's Granny's specialty after all." James answered, peering up from his task long enough to note the smile on Henry's face. The kid was definitely feeling better than he had been earlier that morning.

"I love Granny's chicken noodle. It's the best-"

His nose wrinkled, and a look that didn't go unnoticed by Snow and James.

"What's wrong, kiddo?" James probed, as he came to stand in front of him. With one backward glance toward Snow, he noted that she had the rest of the preparations under control. Plus, James knew that she would get aggravated with him if he pushed to help her any further, just one more quality that their daughter shared with her.

Henry heaved a sigh, before groaning at the burning that flared in his throat. "Its just … most of the time _she_ would fix me that canned stuff, even if I asked her to get some from Granny's. I guess I'm just not used to it is all." he shrugged.

James looked back at Snow, who nodded at him. She came forward, her crutches banging away against the floor, before coming to stop in front of Henry. "Well, Henry, get used to it." she smiled softly, before continuing. "That's what this family does for each other." A grin broke out on her face, as she led Henry toward the kitchen table. Once they were both seated, Snow continued. "When I was pregnant with your mother, I was very sick all the time. There wasn't much that I ate that wanted to stay put, except for one thing. There were these berries, they were very difficult to find, but they were one of the only things that would stay down when I ate. So every other week, your grandfather would mount his trusty steed and go deep into the enchanted forest to locate these berries. He always gathered enough to last for two weeks, and every single night I would have a warm glass of milk and a huge piece of pie made with those berries."

Henry smiled softly. "Wow. Really?" When Snow nodded, his smile grew. "I knew our family was special."

Snow tapped the tip of his nose with her index finger, "That we are, Henry. That we are."

* * *

Emma edged toward the steps, and took in the rest of the scene between Snow and Henry. Against her wishes, a smile crossed her lips. It was the story Snow told Henry about when she was pregnant that did her in. Leaning against the railing, she sighed.

"Just talk to her, Emma. Honestly? She feels awful about what she did, and realizes she was wrong. She just wanted to help you. Let her, would ya'." Graham nudged her shoulder with his, a grin on his lips.

"Alright," Emma threw her hands up in mock surrender, "you win."

Graham shrugged. "I knew I would. I always do."

Emma rolled her eyes, before leaning toward him, her lips pressed against his cheek. Graham eyed her carefully, his hand pressed against his still tingling cheek. "Thanks again."

He beamed a smile at her, "It was my pleasure."

Another eye roll, and Emma started down the stairs. The three occupants of the kitchen looked up, all three smiled.

"Hey," James called out, a knowing smile on his face.

"Hi, Emma." Henry waved, his face still ashen in color but his cheeks were a little less rosy than before.

"Hi, Henry. How're you feeling?"

He shrugged, "A little better. Grandma's been taking good care of me."

Emma looked at Snow gratefully, "Is that right?" Henry simply nodded, before Emma turned her attention back to Snow. "Can we … talk?"

Snow's eyebrow pinched together. She was torn, while she wanted nothing more than to talk with Emma, she was also starving and wanted to eat. "Care to eat lunch first?"

Emma eyed the food and felt her stomach grumble out its protest of yes. "Nah. I really just want to talk … alone."

With one curt nod, Snow stood up, a little wobbly on her crutches, and took off for her bedroom. Emma followed closely behind, hearing the faint sounds of James suggesting that they eat in the living room. She'd have to thank him for that later on. Snow sat on the bed, while Emma chose to lean against the wall. After a few beats, Emma sighed.

"What you did, Snow, it hurt me. The fact that you would blatantly lie to me like that. It hurt." Emma's lip quivered as her most recent dream came to the forefront of her mind again. "I want to forgive you for it. I just …"

Snow peered at Emma through the fringe of her bangs. "I am sorry, Emma. I was just trying to protect you."

"That's just it, though. I'm not some fragile thing that you have to be afraid of breaking." Another sigh, as Emma ran a hand over her face. "I guess that is my fault. I didn't exactly give you any indication that I wouldn't recoil back into my shell. Yes, that dream—memory—whatever, it was so painful to know that it was true. That I was so capable of that level of violence. Though, I have had time to think it over, and I think I understand why I did it. Not that I'm excusing my behavior, but I do understand it. I just—I need to know that you won't do that again."

Snow nodded, "I will always be honest with you, Emma. I have always been honest with you, I just didn't want to hurt you. Not anymore than you already were. Do you understand that? You're my daughter and I will always do what is best for you. You will always come first. No matter what."

Emma nodded, her posture relaxed slightly. "Look … I haven't fully forgiven you, though I do understand it. I feel like I would do the same for Henry-"

Snow held up a hand, she hadn't wanted to bring this up unless Emma did first. "You have done it for Henry." When Emma's eyebrow lifted, Snow continued. "You lied to him about his father, because you couldn't stand the thought of hurting him."

Emma nodded, "I want you to know that I will forgive you, but it'll take more than a talk and some shared stories. You broke my trust, and as stupid as it might be, you're going to have to earn that trust back."

Snow nodded, "I can handle that."

Emma smiled, "Good. Now that's over-" she sighed, as she sat down next to Snow, "I had another dream memory thing." A simple nod from Snow prodded Emma forward. "Graham's death." Snow sighed softly, as she cupped Emma's cheek.

"Oh, honey. The amount of pain that's occurred in your life. I wish that I could take it all away."

Emma shrugged, "But you can't, and that's alright. I've dealt with it before, and I'm certain I'll survive it a second time. I just … I can't keep having these memories come to me in my dreams. I'm not sleeping well as it is, and these dream memories are only aggravating that. I had an idea, but I wasn't sure that it was a good one, so I thought I'd ask you about it." Emma eyed Snow for a moment, and when she nodded, Emma continued. "I think that it would be a good idea if I saw a therapist of some sort. Someone that can help me remember. Maybe that'll stop the memories coming in my sleep."

Snow pondered Emma's words for a moment, before smiling. "Emma, I think that is a fantastic idea. In fact, I feel awful that I didn't think of it earlier." She frowned at that, before continuing. "If you want, I can call Dr. Hopper and set up an appointment with him?"

Emma's nose wrinkled, "Dr. Hopper?"

Snow laughed, "Yeah, Archie. He's-"

"Let me guess, Jiminy Cricket?" When Snow only laughed harder, Emma rolled her eyes. "Sure he is." Before chuckling lightly herself. "Let's go eat lunch, before my stomach devours itself."

Snow nodded, "Thank God! I am famished."

Emma stood up, before turning back to Snow. With a hand under Snow's arm, she helped her stand up and made sure she was steady before pulling back. With a thankful smile on her lips, Snow followed Emma from her bedroom. She might not be fully forgiven, but at least forgiveness was on the table, hopefully after a few good sessions with Archie, Emma would finally get her memory back and they could finally be the happy family they were meant to be.

* * *

Emma settled onto a chair in the kitchen, and smiled softly as Henry gingerly attempted to carry his bowl of soup back toward her.

"Henry, let me help you." Graham said, a grin on his face, as he reached for the bowl in the young boy's hand.

Henry groaned, "Graham, I can handle it." His bottom lip protruded, as he went into full blown pout mode.

Emma chuckled at the exacerbated look on Graham's face, and wondered how she was ever able to keep Henry in check with those utterly adorable looks on his face. "Henry, you're still not well, let Graham help you, please?"

Henry turned toward Emma, the pout falling from his face as he held up the bowl for Graham. Grabbing for the bowl, Graham carefully patted Henry's head and ruffled his hair slightly, before carrying the bowl to the kitchen table. He sat it down directly beside Emma, and watched as Henry climbed onto the chair. A smile crossed Graham's lips as he took in the worried expression on Emma's face, as Henry leaned his head against the table.

"Are you feeling bad again, Henry?" she prodded, as she pressed a hand against the back of his neck. Her nose wrinkled, before turning toward Graham, "Can you grab the Advil? His fever is starting to rise again."

Graham nodded curtly, before turning toward Snow, "Um, where is the Advil?"

Even through her worry for Henry's health, Emma felt herself chuckle at the confusion on Graham's face.

Snow jerked her thumb over her shoulder, toward the bathroom, "Its in the cabinet, behind the mirror."

Graham nodded, before heading into the bathroom, as Emma turned her attention to Henry. His head was turned toward her, and she noticed that the kid had fallen asleep. She eyed the grilled cheese and tomato soup in front of her, and groaned. The kid would have a killer crick in his neck if she let him lay like that, Snow was in no position to help her and she didn't want to bother James who was enjoying his lunch in the living room. Without s second thought, Emma stood slightly and lifted Henry into her arms. He curled against her, and Emma grunted while trying to figure out how Graham was always holding Henry like this. Settling back down in her chair, Emma readjusted Henry so that he was leaning against her chest, his face against her shoulder. His current position left her a free hand to eat with.

"I assure you, Emma, if you would have asked your father for help, he would have laid Henry on the couch." Snow inserted, pointing her fork toward James, who was now looking toward the kitchen.

Nodding, Emma sighed, "I know. You guys are always so great about helping me. I just … he's eating, I didn't want to bother him." She finished, as she picked up half of her grilled cheese and lifted it to her mouth, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. "This is absolutely delicious."

Snow grinned at Emma, "Its one of your favorite things to eat. In fact, I'm fairly certain you would eat it everyday if no one told you otherwise."

Emma smiled at Snow softly, before taking another bite of her sandwich. Things were definitely looking up and Emma had a faint amount of hope that this Dr. Hopper could help her regain her memories, even if he wasn't able to, Emma was certain that things were definitely going to get better. One way or the other, her odd little family was starting to take a turn toward happy, and Emma was actually becoming happier herself.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **As usual, thanks to my amazing beta shopowner93, she is full of awesome! I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Emma stood awkwardly outside of Archie's office. The light inside the office was on and Emma could hear him bustling around from the door. Her hand clenched in a fist, ready to knock on the door. Her nose wrinkled as she tried to pinpoint why exactly she felt so unnerved about what she was about to do. It had been her choice, her decision to start sessions with Archie, so why was it bothering her so badly?

With a sigh, Emma shook her head, before knocking loudly. Three raps later, she heard him call out that he was coming. Standing away from the door, Emma threw most of her weight into her left leg, while her right perched out in front of her and her arms crossed over her chest. It didn't dawn on her just how defensive her stance was, until Archie opened the door and peered at her through his small, round glasses.

"Ah, Miss Swan, please come in." Archie smiled softly at her, gesturing with his left arm.

Emma nodded stiffly, before entering the office. She took a quick look around, before coming to the decision that the room didn't really give off the psychiatrist vibe. There was no desk that separated the patient from the doctor, and though the room was lined with shelves that held numerous different varieties of books, nothing really stood out to her that proved that the man behind her was indeed what he claimed to be.

"Emma, please have a seat." Archie spoke from behind her, causing her to jump slightly.

Sighing, Emma shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket, before settling down on the large couch. She perched herself on the edge, as her fight or flight instinct kicked into overdrive; right now it was screaming at her to stand up and walk in the opposite direction until there was plenty of distance between her and the doctor before her. Swallowing thickly, Emma eyed the floor carefully, as Archie finally settled down in the chair beside the couch.

He cleared his throat, and waited for a moment, though Archie wasn't typically the type of person to wait for the patient to start talking. Usually he would poke and prod with questions about what was going on, what prompted their visit, things along those lines. However, this was not a typical situation, and this was not a typical patient. Archie had many run-ins with Emma Swan prior to the curse being broken, and though he hadn't really had many dealings with the sheriff after the curse broke, he had a feeling that much of her personality hadn't changed. What made things worse was Emma's memory loss, which typically heightened parts of an individual's personality, especially their hostility. Prior to her memory loss, Emma had enough hostility to go around, he could only imagine how much worse that had gotten since her memory loss. Archie was fairly certain in this situation it would be best to let Emma come to him. One thing that Archie had noticed about the prior sheriff was her inability to stand prolonged silence, which, he decided, was something he should look into.

He watched the clock, and saw that a couple of minutes had ticked by, when she cleared her throat. Archie met her eyes, and he could tell that she had figured out his plan.

"Nice." she mumbled, before looking down as her hands played with the zipper on her jacket. "Look, I'm not exactly comfortable right now. I clearly have no idea if that is something that is normal for me or not, but I just—I want answers. I figured, who better to ask than a psychiatrist?"

Archie nodded, as he pulled his glasses off and wiped them off before placing them back onto his face. "What kind of answers are you seeking, Emma?" Archie asked, and fought the urge to bite his lip while he waited for her answer to his question.

She sighed, irritation clear in the sound, before looking up at him. "I've had two dreams in the past three days. The first one, was awful—do I have to tell you about it?" she found herself asking, her face scrunching up at the thought of having to say the words again. When Archie shook his head _no_, she continued. "The second one was about Graham-" she paused for a moment as realization crossed his face, before she pushed forward. "Neither dream was actually a dream. After relaying the information to Snow and Graham, they both explained how the dreams were actually memories..." she trailed off, as she ran her hands over her face. There wasn't a need to tell the doctor how Snow had broken her trust by lying to her about them at first. That would only send this visit in a direction that Emma honestly knew she couldn't handle. As it was, it was taking all of her effort to sit here and talk to him. There was no reason to add to the pressure. "I can't keep having my sleep interrupted. Henry, my son, he's been sick the past few days, so I haven't been sleeping well as it is, and these dreams..."

Archie threw up a hand to stop her. He didn't normally interrupt his patients, and he most definitely wouldn't normally interrupt Emma, but he needed additional information. "I just—I have a couple of questions before you continue, if you don't mind?"

Emma eyed him carefully, "Is that one of the questions?" Archie chuckled, but shook his head _no_. "Do I have a choice?" Again, he shook his head, a smile on his face. She sighed, "Then sure, why not."

Archie leaned forward, his forearms on his knees. "You said that your son, Henry was sick, correct?" Emma nodded, unsure where exactly this line of questioning was headed. "So then, even though you don't actually remember him, you accept him as your son. As your flesh and blood?"

Emma quirked her eyebrow slightly, wondering what exactly he was getting at. What kind of information was he seeking, to ask her something as stupid and lame-brained as if she accepted _her son_ as her son. Hadn't she just said that? Sighing, a scowl on her face, Emma nodded curtly, "Of course I do."

Archie peered down at the clipboard in his hand. He jotted down a few notes, before looking back up and peering at Emma through his glasses. "Good. My next question then, and this one might be harder for you, Emma, is do you recognize and accept Snow and James as your parents?"

Emma sighed. She definitely shouldn't have given him the okay to question her. It was obviously a bad move, and Emma didn't understand what importance any of this had with her memories coming to her in her dreams. "Do I recognize it? I didn't, but they don't really give me a chance to not accept it. I don't call them _mom_ and _dad_, if that's what you're asking."

Archie nodded, as he jotted some more notes on his clipboard before looking back up, "So, you accept Henry, without having to be prodded into it, but are nearly unwilling to accept Snow and James?"

Emma swallowed. _Well shit_, she thought. She had set herself up for this line of questioning, without even realizing it. "Yes." Her throat felt like it was closing in. The word practically choked her on the way out. Her hands were shaking, and her breathing started to hitch slightly.

"Please, Emma, stay calm." Archie placed a hand on Emma's forearm.

She took a couple of deep breaths, until it was fairly easy for her to inhale and exhale. "Why?" she forced the question out, unsure if she actually wanted the answer.

"I just want to understand why you are willing to let Henry in, to call him family, but are so unnerved by Snow and James that you cast them aside."

Emma's upper lip pulled back over her teeth, as she growled. "Well, let's see here, doc." Emma spat, forcing herself to remain seated as her flight instinct kicked into high gear all over again. "My 10-year-old son, is easy to accept as my son, because I've had a dream about being pregnant with him. Snow and James are practically my age, see where my issue might be with accepting them as my parents!?"

Archie sat back in the chair, regretting his decision to travel down this line of questioning. He threw his hands up in surrender. "Okay, I get it. I understand. Let's get back to what you were saying. Your dreams are really memories." Archie prodded her back into safer topic discussion.

Sighing, Emma took a moment to compose herself. "I'm sorry I yelled." She said, sadly, before pushing forward. "I was just wondering if there was any treatment that could help pull the memories out, so that I am able to sleep through the night without having these weird nightmare memories that makes sleep practically impossible after I have them."

Archie tapped his chin with the end of his pen as he thought. "There are a couple of options, Emma, and I would be glad to try them if you want-" she opened her mouth, but Archie held up a hand to signify he wasn't quite finished. "We can try them, but I cannot and will not promise that it will stop the memories from coming in your dreams. I also cannot promise that either of these treatments will provoke any memories to the surface. The choice is yours, Emma."

Emma nodded, as she took in the information. She thought about it for a moment, even though her mind had been long since made up. Emma had decided the moment that Snow had told her that she had made her an appointment with Archie that she would try anything that the doctor suggested. "What are my options?"

Archie nodded, "Well there is the basic option of talk therapy-" Emma shook her head vehemently back and forth at that option. Archie knew immediately that would be the automatic last option, "or, hypnosis. It's proved very helpful in the past, in fact I used it on your father when he was dealing with his own memory loss."

Sighing, Emma nodded her head. "Let's do it!"

Emma moaned, her hands curling into fists for a second before uncurling only to restart the process all over again. Archie was guiding her through the hypnosis process, but was starting to get worried by Emma's worsening agitation.

"Emma, listen to my voice. You're safe. Follow my directions, and on the count of three you will wake up."

* * *

Emma groaned; her arms flailed around for a moment before settling down again. Archie didn't want to wait any longer. "One. Two. Three." He called out, and waited as her eyes snapped open.

"Dammit!" Emma cursed, as she flung herself into a sitting position and immediately regretted the decision. Her vision swam as her body swayed uncertainly from side to side. Archie reached out a steadying hand, and waited until Emma shooed him away with her hand.

"Why'd you wake me up!?" She questioned him, her index finger pointing at him harshly.

Archie was easily able to read the anger on her face, it was all part of the mask that Emma had put in place many years before. However, it took some skill or knowing where to look, to see what the blonde was really feeling, and Archie was able to see just that. Seeing straight through the angry mask that Emma showed the world outside, he saw fear, hurt, and potential happiness. It was a wide arrange of emotions that nearly threw Archie.

"You were becoming distressed, Emma. You could have harmed yourself. I did what I needed to do. Would you care to share what you saw?"

Emma bit her lip. "Numerous things, more like little flashes here and there. Meeting Garrett, finding out I was pregnant, Henry showing up at my apartment, meeting Graham-" Emma's voice trailed off, as she sighed. "They weren't full-blown memories, just glimpses. It's something though, right?" Emma asked; her voice held just the slightest hint of hope in it.

"Yes, Emma! This was a great first session. In fact, I feel that if we have at least two sessions a week, we'll have your memories recovered in no time." Archie said, enthusiasm evident in his voice.

"Two sessions?" Emma made a face as Archie nodded, she sighed before continuing. "Fine, I suppose. How long is '_no time_'?" she asked, praying that it meant no more than a hand full of sessions.

Archie shrugged, "Each person is different. Every case of memory loss is different as well. I can't pinpoint anything specific, but I'd say a few months?"

Emma groaned, "A few months!? Uh uh, doctor, I didn't sign up for _months_ of treatment."

Archie frowned, deeply. "I feel that if you really commit to your sessions with me, Emma, and you allow the people around you tell you stories of your past, that your memory will return within a few months. This is great news, Emma."

A sigh, and she stood. "Alright. Set me up for my next appointment I guess, but I'm only giving you two months to make progress, or I'm out."

Archie nodded, "I think I can handle that." Though he didn't typically enjoy ultimatums, this was one he couldn't pass on. Emma wasn't just the savior, she was the daughter of two of his closest friends and he truly felt like he owed it, not only to Snow and James but Emma as well, to do his best to help Emma regain her memory. It was the least he could do after what he allowed Gepetto do.

He wrote down a time for two days later on a slip of paper, and handed it to Emma. "I'll see you in two days, Emma. Let the people around you, help you. It's what they want, and it will be good for you. Trust me."

Emma nodded, "Sure." She shrugged her shoulders, before stuffing the paper into her jacket pocket and walking from the room. It might not have been a full-blown memory, but at least it was start.

* * *

_**A/N:** _So, was it good? Was it horrible? Tell me, I want to know! Here is something for you guys to look forward to for the next chapter. Another Archie session (will there be a breakthrough?) and some fluff related material, since this story has really been lacking on the fluff front. Fluff to be included, may involve one Irish accented ex-sheriff going on a date with one memory loss related ex-sheriff...Not sure if those clues are good enough, but let's just say that I hope I don't let the Gremma shippers down!


	11. Chapter 11

_**A/N:** _As always, thanks to my beta, Shopowner93. She is full of all things awesome. As promised, fluff with just a sprinkle of angst. Have fun, enjoy, and as always, REVIEW.

* * *

It had been a little over a week since Emma had started her therapy sessions with Archie, and though she still hadn't had a full-blown memory, the flashes were getting more detailed. At first it had been like Emma had been flipping through a photo album of her life, with some of the pictures either faded to the point that recognition was impossible or were missing completely. Though it wasn't exactly what she had been hoping for, she took it for what it was: a glimpse into the life that she had led before. Now her flashes are more like worn-out home movies, the edges frayed and fuzzy, and part of the film is missing. Not to mention that the home movies lack sound, but it's definitely better than the flip-book picture show that she had received before.

Though Emma typically tried to get a decent night's sleep before her appointments, she hadn't been able to deny Graham when he had asked her out. A proper date is what he had called it, his Irish brogue warping the words just enough to make them sound slightly exotic. She had cocked an eyebrow, with one hand on her hip as she thought about the fact that she had deep connection with Graham, but no real reason as to why. While she had tried Archie's advice of allowing those around her to help her to remember, Emma hadn't been able to ask Graham the questions that truly plagued her about the two of them. Mostly, what their relationship had been … before. Had they been in a relationship? It was the only thing that explained the deep connection and overwhelming feelings that overtook her whenever he was around, and yet he had waited this long to ask her out?

A knock on her bedroom door brought her back to the present, as she glared at her reflection in the mirror. "Well this is just...not working," Emma groaned.

"I think you look beautiful." Snow smiled from the doorway, her arms crossed over her arms with one eyebrow cocked slightly.

"Look at you, all cocky now that you're not stumbling around on those God-forsaken crutches."

Snow chuckled, "Oh believe me, no one is more excited to be rid of those hideous things than me." Snow walked further into Emma's bedroom, and sat on the edge of the bed. She crossed her legs, and hissed when the bulky walking cast smacked against her shin. "That hurts every single time!" Snow grumbled, as she rubbed at the sore flesh.

Emma shrugged, trying not to chuckle at the glare radiating from Snow's face. "You'd think that you would learn, Mom." Emma's eyes bulged slightly as she realized what she had said, swallowing thickly, she prayed that Snow would pick up on the added word.

Snow schooled her expression as well as she could, even though her heart leapt at Emma's slip. Even if Emma didn't think she meant it, Snow knew that Emma didn't say certain words without there being a meaning behind them. Emma might not know it in her conscious mind, but on a deeper level, there was a reason why that word had slipped from Emma's mouth. Part of her hoped that it was because the therapy with Archie was truly helping. That slowly, piece by broken piece, her daughter was returning to her. Snow didn't care if she had to put those broken pieces together again like a jigsaw puzzle that was impossible to piece together; Snow would do whatever it took to get her daughter back. However, now was not the time to call Emma out on it. She was only starting to come back out of the shell of walls she used to protect herself, and Snow knew that if she pressed too hard right now that Emma would only recede back behind those walls.

"You would think, yet I continue to do it," Snow finally spoke, shrugging her shoulders.

Emma tried to not look too relieved that Snow had chosen not to poke at the fact that she had let the mom word slip, but she knew that it wasn't a success when Snow's confidant smile fell away. Emma offered her smile, trying to think of a way to meet Snow halfway. She was honestly trying, and the more time she spent with both Snow and James, the more she was able to notice the similarities. With each passing day it was getting harder and harder to deny them as her parents. Like the fact that she and James had the exact same color eyes, or the fact that she had Snow's chin. Then there was the fact that she had some of the same little quirks that both, Snow and James, had.

"Hey, care to help me? I'm fairly certain that I am failing at the whole, looking casual thing. It only took him six and half months to ask me out on a proper date," Emma said, using air quotes for the last two words.

"He didn't want to push, Graham knows you much better than you even knew that he did," Snow said softly. "He has only gotten better at knowing you since everything that has happened. His knowledge of your moods is shockingly accurate. Just know that he has been in love with you for a very long time."

Emma sighed softly, before turning toward her mother. "How did I feel about him? I can't seem to figure it out, and it is bothering me so badly."

"Well, you never really told me how you felt about him before. Except for when you were vehemently trying to deny that you felt anything for him. I firmly remember you abusing some flowers when you thought he had sent them to you. After he-" Snow trailed off, her eye glazing over slightly and Emma could tell she was stuck in a memory from the past. Emma cleared her throat, bringing Snow back to the present. She offered Emma a sad smile, before continuing. "You were just stuck. Refusing to actually accept that he was gone, refusing to grieve for what you had lost. It broke my heart to see you like that. Walking like you were in a trance, that only Graham could wake you from. When you finally did breakdown, it was horribly painful for both of us. I could only assume how you felt, because you never once actually told me, but Emma, if I'm being completely honest I think that you were in love with him. Maybe not fully, not right away, but I think that you could have been in love with him. I think that was what hurt you the most when he…died. The not knowing, I think that you were just as confused by your feelings as you are right now. The only difference is that now you have the chance to explore those feelings, to understand them. Just, please listen to me on this; give yourself a chance. Love him if you want to. Don't fight it, because life is short and precious. Don't risk it again."

Emma swallowed thickly, her eyes glassy as she blinked heavily, trying to keep the tears at bay. Without a second thought, Emma closed the distance between herself and Snow, before enveloping her mother in a tight hug. "Thank you," Emma said, a small smile on her face.

"Oh, honey, you're welcome." Snow smiled into Emma's shoulder. "Now, let's get you dressed. Graham will never know what hit him." Snow winked as Emma pulled back.

* * *

Graham stood at the bottom of the stairs, a bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his hands. Snow chuckled at the nervousness that seemed to permeate off of Graham. Walking forward, she placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He turned slightly, smiling warmly at her. "If it weren't for that clunky cast, I might not have heard you coming."

Snow rolled her eyes. "You and Emma, two peas in a pod, I swear," she grumbled. "I'll go see what's keeping her." Snow finished with a small smile.

Graham nodded, as he watched Snow carefully ascend the stairs. He tugged at the collar of his white dress shirt, as he started to regret the color choice. At the very least, he wished he had bought the jacket that went with the shirt, in hopes that it would cover up any potential sweat stains that he was in the process of making.

"Graham, it'll be alright."

Graham practically jumped out of his skin at the sudden appearance of Emma's son. He turned around and found the young boy smiling up at him.

"How do you know that?"

Henry's smile only grew in size, as he shrugged. "Maybe I've got special powers-" Henry chuckled when Graham rolled his eyes. "Okay, alright. It's easy to know that, Graham. Have you seen the way that my mom looks at you? It's not hard to figure out that she likes you."

Graham nodded, as Henry pointed at the stairs. Taking a deep breath, Graham turned around. He nearly choked on the air as he attempted to exhale. Emma was slowly descending the stairs, a knee-length red dress clung to her in all the right places. If Graham hadn't been sweating before, he definitely was now. He suddenly felt very under-dressed, as she was in full view. Her blonde curls were swept back in an elegant up-do, a couple of errant curls framed her face just so.

He hadn't realized that he had been moving toward her, until she made a move for the landing and his hand reached out toward her. She took it willingly, as he pulled her down to stand in front of him. He blinked his eyes, trying to regain control over his body, his mouth to be specific. It bobbed open and closed a couple of times before he trusted his voice. "These are for you," he spoke softly as he extended the flowers that he had held in a death grip.

Emma took the flowers from Graham, and chuckled at the slightly bent stems. "What did these poor flowers do to you?" she asked, her eyebrow raised slightly.

Graham looked at the flowers, and sighed. "Oh, God. I'm sorry." Graham's hands reached out to try to fix the bent stems.

Emma batted his hands away, a smile on her face. "Geez, Graham, I was just joking. Besides, I like them like this. They are different now, not like all the other flowers out there." She winked at him, before sniffing at the flowers. Her smile broadened as the scent of the flowers overtook her. "These smell fantastic," Emma said softly, before handing the flowers off to her mother.

Graham smiled softly at her. "Are you ready?" he asked, as he offered her his arm.

She nodded enthusiastically. Emma threw a glance over at Snow, "Make sure that he's in bed by nine."

"But Mom," Henry whined, his bottom lip protruding and his eyes widening slightly.

Emma sighed, "Ten at the latest." Her voice was firm, and Henry knew better than to push further. Snow nodded, and Emma knew that she didn't really have to tell her any of that. Snow knew what time Henry went to bed, but Emma was beyond nervous and she needed to feel like she had control over something, anything really.

James walked into the room, his hands shoved into his jean pockets. His eyebrows raised slightly, "Do I need to have a talk with you or-"

"James!" Snow chastised her husband before smiling at her daughter. "You two have fun tonight."

Graham nodded, "Thank you." He smiled, before placing his hand over the one that Emma had linked with his arm, leading her toward the door.

"Don't wait up." Emma called, mainly because she had no idea what Graham had planned for them.

Once they were out the door, Graham sighed anxiously, "How nervous are you?"

Emma looked up at him. "A little. You?" she prodded.

"A little. Nothing I can't handle." He smiled at her, as they descended the stairs.

A comfortable silence fell over them, as they took the stairs slowly. Once they reached the landing, Graham held the door open for Emma, causing her to chuckle. "How chivalrous of you, Graham Humbert."

He bowed, and winked, the nervousness slowly falling away. "All in a day's work, milady."

Emma rolled her eyes, "Okay there is a line between cute and corny. You jumped right over it."

"What can I say?" he shrugged. "That's what you liked most about me before. My ability to be the corniest person you've ever known."

"Is that so?" Emma cocked an eyebrow, as they started walking down the street. "Do tell."

"Oh, I can crack the corniest jokes. Like-" Graham grinned brightly as the memory came over him, "a couple of days after you arrived in town, you came into Granny's. Ruby gave you a hot chocolate, claiming you had an admirer. Obviously, you immediately thought it was me." He smiled smugly at her, causing her to smack his arm. "Anyway, you came to my booth and started to flirt with me. Something about how observant I am. You were trying to flatter me, and let me tell you—it was working." He chuckled as Emma rolled her eyes. "Continuing on, the night you arrived in town, when you left to go back to Boston you claim you saw a wolf in the road, swerved and ran into our town sign. So me, being the hilarious man that I am, explained to you how you staying in town was good for our tourism, but bad for our signage-"

Emma glanced at him, the same way that she had the first time he had uttered that joke, and it made Graham laugh even more. "Oh, well that's just—really not very funny. You were right about one thing though," Emma said, as she walked a couple of steps ahead, before turning around to face him. A devious smile was on her lips, "it was fairly corny."

Graham chuckled, as he caught up to her, grabbing her hand in his. "So, you haven't asked me where we're going, yet."

Emma shrugged, "I figured that you'd tell me when you wanted to. Perhaps you wanted to surprise me."

Graham nodded, "Maybe a little of both." He pointed down the sidewalk. "Just about another block up the road here is a little hidden gem. For such a small town, you would think that everyone would know about this place, but rarely anyone visits it. It's quite a nice restaurant, one of my favorites, aside from Granny's of course."

Emma mocked a serious face. "Well of course," before chuckling. She had to admit that any nerves she felt before had pretty much all diminished away. Her smiles weren't forced, her laughter was real, and for once in as long as she could remember she felt truly happy.

They made it down the final block in silence, and Graham held the door open for Emma before following her into the small restaurant. What he hadn't told Emma was that the owner was a friend of his, and that the man owed him a favor. She hadn't noticed the closed sign on the front of the door, or the fact that most of the lights in the restaurant were either off or were dimmed very low. Once they were fully inside, Emma gasped lightly. All of the tables had their chairs stacked up, as if the establishment was closed, except for one small table in the middle of the room. It had two candles sitting atop of it, lighting the small area around the table.

"Surprised?" Graham asked, his mouth mere inches from her ear as his arm snaked around her waist.

"Very," she nodded, looking at Graham.

His heart nearly melted at the look of awe in her eyes. He licked at his lips, as his mouth suddenly went dry. Emma leaned forward slightly. Her lips were only inches away from his, when a voice startled her. "Can I take your jacket—Oh, sorry." The young boy blushed bright red, noting that he had interrupted something intimate.

"We didn't bring jackets," Graham said, smiling sheepishly at the teenage boy.

"That's quite alright, Mr. Humbert."

Graham waved his hand at the boy. "It's Graham, please."

The boy nodded, as he walked them to their table. Graham pulled out Emma's chair for her, and scooted it back in once she had sat down. Slowly, he made his way over to his chair, and sat down. The teenager handed them menus, before pulling his arms behind his back.

"My name is Cary, and I'll be your waiter tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink? I do apologize ahead of time, our bar is closed down tonight so I can only offer you soda or water."

They both nodded their heads, before Emma looked up. "You don't happen to have hot chocolate?" Her voice was hopeful as the boy smiled.

"As a matter of fact, we do. Is that what you would like?"

Emma nodded, before looking at Graham, "I'll have the same, make sure to splash some cinnamon on both of those." He smiled at Cary, as he nodded and walked away.

"Is it bad that I forget that I like cinnamon on my hot chocolate?"

Graham pursed his lips, and shook his head. "Nope, I don't think so. That's what I'm here for, to make sure you don't forget." He winked at her, as she smiled appreciatively at him.

"So, mastermind, what's good here?" Emma quirked an eyebrow, as Graham chuckled.

"They make a mean grilled cheese with tomato soup." Graham knew that was her overall favorite thing to eat, no matter what.

"Oh, well that sounds heavenly." She smiled, before handing him her menu.

"I'm assuming then, that's what you're going to have?" Emma nodded. "Great!"

Cary arrived back, carrying their beverages. He sat them both down, before grabbing a pad of paper and a pen. "Can I take your order?"

Graham nodded, "I think I'll have a grilled chicken breast with a side of barbecue sauce with a bowl of tomato soup. She'll have a grilled cheese sandwich with a bowl of tomato soup."

Cary jotted down their order and nodded, "I'll have that out in no time."

As Cary disappeared, Emma looked at Graham. "Grilled chicken breast?"

Graham chuckled, "It's delicious, I'll let you try it when it arrives."

Emma smiled. "Sounds like a plan."

Graham reached across the table and linked their fingers together. A content smile crossed his lips when Emma sighed happily. It might have taken a lot of time and planning, but it was all worth it to see that happy smile on Emma's face.

* * *

Emma lay spread out on her bunk. Her blonde hair spread out around her, covering the small, thin pillow completely. Her stomach was starting to budge out to the point that she could no longer see her feet when lying down. Her hands reached out, rubbing against the large baby bump, a content smile on her face. Emma had made her decision days ago, not only would she not be released from prison when she had the baby, but she was in no position to raise a child. If she had a little more stability in her life, there wouldn't have been a second thought. As much as Emma would hate to admit it out-loud, she had always wanted to be a mother. Though being a mother at the ripe old age of eighteen wasn't exactly what she had in mind.

"You're in my damned bunk again!"

Tess was a large woman, and Emma always tried to keep to herself, to not piss Tess off, considering Emma had seen first hand what the woman was capable of. Margaret was still in the infirmary from the injuries she had sustained at the hands of Tess. Being pregnant only added to Emma's cautious ways.

"Sorry, but to be fair, whatever bunk I lay in you say is yours." Emma sighed, biting her lip. She knew she had crossed a line by the look that crossed Tess' face.

"Are you calling me a liar?" Tess grabbed Emma by the collar of her tight fitting jumpsuit and hauled her to her feet. "Are you!?" Tess screamed at Emma, before shoving her against the wall of their shared cell.

Swallowing thickly, Emma shook her head. "No." Her mouth ran dry as fear overtook her. Emma wasn't normally the type to back down from a fight, in fact she generally welcomed a good fight with open arms. However, fighting was on the backburner for two reasons. First, and the most obvious being that she was pregnant. Even if she didn't have the intention of keeping the baby, Emma still didn't want to cause her unborn child any harm. Second, Emma had been promised that there was a chance she could be released early on good behavior. She was fairly certain that fighting with your cellmate did not call for good behavior.

"Funny. It kind of sounded like you did. I don't like being called a liar. You're gonna have to pay for that, you know that right?"

Emma cried out, "No. I'm pregnant."

A sneer crossed Tess' face, "You say that like I give a damn. I don't." She pulled back her arm, before allowing it to lurch forward.

The first punch connected with Emma's jaw, and she prayed that Tess kept all of her punishment punches directed at her face. At least then it would ensure the safety of her unborn child.

Archie touched a hand to Emma's shoulder as she started to jerk around on the couch. As it was, she had nearly fallen off the large piece of furniture once already. Archie wanted to shy away from any potential head injuries, and falling off the couch seemed a likely way for someone to get a head injury.

"Emma, if you can hear me. I'm going to count backwards from three and you're going to wake up." Archie scrunched up his face, as Emma's only form of an answer was a backhand across his face. "One. Two. Three." He counted and waited.

Emma jerked herself into a sitting position. Her back was ramrod straight, as she breathed heavily. Her eyes darted around the room. Archie reached out a comforting hand, laying it against Emma's shoulder. She let out an ear-piercing scream, before falling off the couch. Scrambling backward, Emma shoved herself into the corner of the room, her knees drawn up to her chest. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

"Emma, it's okay. It's me, it's Archie." He made his way, slowly and carefully, toward her, his arms outstretched to show that he was no danger to her.

"No." It was a strangled cry of pain, and it broke Archie's heart into pieces. "No, please. Don't hurt me... don't hurt my baby."

Archie stopped abruptly as the words sank in, and he realized that she was still stuck in her own past.


	12. Chapter 12

Emma huddled on her bed, the blankets pulled up around her shoulders. It had been three days since her last session with Archie, and two since she was able to fully awaken herself from the thick fog that her last hypnosis session had left her in. According to her doctor, she had spent an hour huddled in the corner of his office. She wouldn't let anyone around her because she didn't recognize them. According to Archie, her mind had become slightly warped by the hypnosis, for lack of a better explanation, he informed her that she was stuck in her memory, that she thought she was still in prison, that she was still pregnant with Henry, and that someone named Tess was trying to hurt her.

After an additional hour, she slowly started to come back into herself. She had acknowledged Archie, but couldn't remember why she was seated on the floor. Emma also had no knowledge of the memory that she had retained in her last session, and from the way that Archie had described her outburst, she didn't particularly want to remember. After that point, Emma knew where she was and recognized those around her, but she seemed to be in a haze. The haziness lasted almost a full day, which she spent sleeping.

Ever since that last session, Emma had been plagued by nightmares. Nothing specific, but from what she was able to remember of them, they had been from her time in prison. The only thing she could think of was that her damaged memory was trying to bring back what she had remembered via her dreams. Whatever the reason behind all of the weirdness, Archie decided that she should take a week off from her sessions. He was fearful that if he were to push her in her current state that it could cause irreparable damage.

"Emma, sweetheart, are you okay?" Snow asked, pushing the door open and settling down on the edge of her bed.

She swallowed thickly. She felt bad for waking up the entire house every time she had a nightmare. With a heavy sigh, Emma nodded her head. It wasn't exactly a lie, her heartbeat was starting to return to normal and the cold sweat that she had woken up in was starting to dry. However, that didn't mean that she felt good about closing her eyes anytime soon. In moments like this, when Snow looked at her with those patient, loving eyes, Emma felt weak. Slowly, her bravado started to fall away, and she could feel her hands shake slightly. It took everything in her to not cry in that moment. Her mind was so muddled between what was a real, actual memory, and what was her brain's attempt at screwing with her. It was all so confusing to the point that she felt like she might actually be losing her mind. "Could you..." she sighed again, "maybe stay a little while?"

Snow smiled sadly at her, before nodding, "Of course, sweetheart."

Though normally the pet names that Snow called her would dig under her skin, right now, in this moment, it was exactly what Emma needed. To feel loved, which was why she was only slightly shocked when she scooted over on the bed and patted the empty spot beside her. Snow smiled but didn't say a word as she curled up next to her daughter. Snow's raised her arm momentarily and let it hang in the air. She waited a beat to see what Emma's reaction would be. When Emma didn't dismiss the action, Snow's arm continued its movement until it rested comfortably around Emma's middle.

Emma felt the pull of sleep, as her eyes drooped close. Fighting against the feeling for a moment, she peered, blurry-eyed, at her mother. "Did I wake Henry?"

Snow sighed, "Yeah, but James and Graham are working on getting him back to sleep."

Ever since her incident, Henry had been sleeping on the couch and Graham had taken up residence on the floor. Emma felt bad about it, but she had been the one to suggest the switch, at least for now. Sometimes her nightmares caused her to actually strike out, instead of just scream. Emma couldn't bare the thought of injuring Henry because she had a bad dream.

"I should go see that he's okay. He'll need to know that I'm alright." As she spoke the words, her eyes drifted close. Emma tried to force them back open, but her eyelids felt like they were made out of lead.

"He'll be okay, Emma. Just sleep. I'll be right here," Snow whispered softly and brushed back a stray strand of hair from Emma's face. Slowly, Emma's breathing evened out and Snow sighed softly. It was going to another long night.

* * *

The next morning saw all of the occupants of the overly full apartment, eating their breakfast. Emma slowly picked at her bowl of Lucky Charms, while trying to avoid eye contact with Snow. Her walls were back up and locked tightly in place. The night before she had allowed herself to be vulnerable, for Snow to actually mother her a little bit. However, in the light of day, Emma felt entirely different about all of it. She didn't want to tell Snow that, for fear that she would hurt her. Avoiding her was the next best thing.

Henry sat next to James; his eyes were boring holes into the table as he shoveled Lucky Charms into his mouth. Emma couldn't help but continuing to look at him. She could see the fear in his eyes, even if she didn't have the best view of them. His shoulders were stiff, and Emma felt to blame. It wasn't like she could control what happened when she closed her eyes, but that didn't help Henry. He had been through so much in the past year. Even if she couldn't remember any of it, the evidence was right in front of her.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Emma dropped her spoon. For the good of her son, she would put her uneasiness away for a while. She hit Snow's shoulder with her own, and nodded toward Snow's bedroom. Nodding, both women pushed away from the table and stood up. Graham and James eyed them carefully while Henry didn't even raise his head.

Upon entering Snow's room, Emma sat down on the bed. Her head fell into her hands with a groan. "It's my fault that he's like that. I've screwed him up somehow."

Snow sighed, as she sat down next to Emma. She reached out a hand toward Emma's shoulder before recoiling. It was daytime, and Emma was terrified from the nightmare that was haunting her. Snow knew that Emma wouldn't take to the comforting of her mother as well as she had in her half asleep stupor, like the night before.

"Emma, that is not true. Sure, he's having some trouble dealing, but it's because he can't help you. That's what is really bothering him. He wants to help you, to fix you, but he can't. It's breaking his heart."

Emma peered up at Snow through her eyelashes. "You think so?"

Snow smiled softly, patting her shoulder lightly, throwing caution to the wind. "I know so. He's told me so."

Emma nodded, "If that's the case, then I think he should see Archie. I mean, I've been banned from Archie's office for at least a week. So I know he has openings, and I would feel better if Archie knew about Henry's fears. I might not have been quite so open to Archie's help, but I have to admit, he's a great guy. Plus, he really knows his stuff."

Snow merely nodded, "I'll call Archie and make an appointment." Staring into Emma's eyes, she could practically read the fear that was written in them. "Don't worry, Henry won't mind. It wouldn't be his first time seeing Archie. Plus, Henry adores Archie."

Emma smiled softly at Snow, "Thank you."

"What for?" Snow asked, generally confused as to why Emma was thanking her.

"For always being there, willing to pick up the pieces. I know it can't be easy."

Snow shrugged, "A mother will do anything for their child."

Emma's smile grew at Snow's words, as she nodded. A truer sentence couldn't have been said in that moment.

* * *

Henry's feet swayed back and forth, as he sat perched on Archie's oversized couch. It was all familiar, and he couldn't find it in himself to be angry with Emma for taking him to see Archie. Her reasoning had been different than... hers. Emma actually cared about him. She was worried that what was happening to her was hurting him, and Henry couldn't deny that fact.

Every time he heard her screaming herself awake, he felt his heart clench. Often times he found himself fighting off tears, knowing that there was nothing he could do to help her. That was all he really wanted, was to help Emma, to make her feel better, to help her remember, which was one reason why he was actually glad he was sitting in Archie's office. Henry had a plan to get Emma's memory back.

"So, Henry, how are you?" Archie asked, the words coming out a little awkward. So much had happened to the young boy since the last time Archie had a session with him.

Henry looked up at him, his best puppy dog look crowded his features, "I'm okay, I guess. I just..." he sighed, heavily. Henry knew that he might be pushing the acting just a little bit, but he needed Archie to think he was really distressed about this, in order for Archie to listen to him. "I really wish there was something I could do for my mom." He swallowed thickly and sniffed, before wiping his sleeve against his nose. "She won't admit it, but I know the nightmares are scaring her." With big wide eyes, Henry glanced up at Archie, his bottom lip pouted out slightly before continuing. "She wakes up screaming every night."

Archie sighed, as he leaned forward, "How would you help Emma, Henry? If the choice was yours?"

Henry sighed, his index finger tapping his chin. "I was thinking the other day, about my Grandpa James. When he woke up from his first coma... he couldn't remember anything either. I asked him how he got his memory back, and he mentioned that he saw a windmill that used to be his. That once he remembered that, the rest of it came back to him. That it was really foggy at first, but after some time it became clearer."

Archie nodded his head, "So, you're thinking that if you show something to Emma, that she'll remember?"

Henry groaned, "Not just anything, Archie. It has to be something of importance, something that Emma cared about or that reminds her of something she cares about."

Archie's eyebrows pinched together in confusion, "I'm not sure that I'm following you, Henry."

He smiled, "That's alright, I just need to know if it's possible, that she could remember if she saw something that she cares about?"

Archie stared ahead for a moment, his eyebrows furrowing as he thought. "It's very unconventional, but it is certainly possible."

Henry smiled. "Perfect. So, I was thinking this could be Operation Serpent."

Archie chuckled, as he leaned in closer toward Henry. "Lay it on me, Henry."

* * *

Emma stood awkwardly outside of Archie's office, her back against her busted up, yellow bug. She eyed the door for a moment, knowing that Henry's appointment should be nearly over, before letting her eyes drop to the ground. Her left foot started to tap in a rhythm, as her fingernails dug at her cuticles. The sound of the heavy front door slamming shut caused Emma to jump, her fingernail digging deeper into the nail bed than she had intended. She cursed under her breath, as she put the finger in her mouth, in attempt to stop the stinging pain.

"Thanks, Mom." Henry smiled softly at her, before taking in her stance. His brow furrowed momentarily. "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked, nodding toward the finger in her mouth.

Emma grinned sheepishly, before removing the still stinging finger from her mouth. She shrugged slightly, "Me and my fingernail got into a fight. Sad thing: my fingernail won."

Henry chuckled lightly, before putting his hands against his stomach. "I'm starving," he paused, looking up at Emma with his big, bulging eyes. His bottom lip pouted out briefly, "Granny's?"

Emma sighed, heavily. "I think your grandma was making something special for lunch, but I guess I could call her to cancel?"

Henry shook his head. "You had me at something special," he grinned at Emma. "Let's go home."

Emma chuckled lightly, as she ruffled Henry's hair. "You're gonna give me gray hairs, kid."

Henry grinned lightly, as he climbed into the car. They had tried Emma's way, they had tried Archie's way, now it was time to try it Henry's way.


	13. Chapter 13

_**A/N:** _It's official, this bad boy is coming to an end. I see two more chapters. One final chapter, then an epilogue. I hope you all have enjoyed this story, and no worries I still have a couple of ideas that I want to start working on.

* * *

Emma paced as her fingers dug into her hair. She paused long enough to look up at the clock before she started to pace again. A frustrated groan escaped her lips. She stopped dead in her tracks and whipped her head around when she heard a snigger behind her.

"What is so damn funny?" Emma asked, her arms crossed over her chest.

Snow stopped her progress on the small lunch she had been working on to stare back at her daughter. Mimicking her daughter's stance, she added a raised eyebrow for good measure. "You have been uptight and annoyed far too easily recently."

"And that's funny?"

Snow shook her head. "Not that particularly, but the look on your face when you're pacing is quite hilarious." Snow smiled softly.

"Am I not entitled to be annoyed? The guys have been disappearing everyday by sunrise, and don't return home until after dinner. It's bad enough that Graham and James barely have time for me anymore, but Henry too?" Emma threw up her hands in frustration. She and Henry had started to grow even closer since she had him visit Dr. Hopper. She had hoped that the extra time she spent with him would prove that she only wanted what was best for him, and that he hadn't been lying when he said that he didn't blame her. Though after a few days, the extra time they spent together slowly disappeared until he was rarely home before five in the afternoon.

Snow sighed, she too had found herself wondering what they were up to. James had refused to tell her, afraid that she might spill the beans to Emma. Which made her excited that they were working on something for Emma, but she also wondered why Henry was disappearing with James and Graham. "I understand that you're aggravated, Emma, and you are absolutely entitled to feel whichever way you see fit." Snow turned the heat on the stove off, letting the food sit for a moment as she sat down at the kitchen table. She nodded at the chair in front of her, and waited until Emma sat down.

"And what, you're not aggravated?"

Snow smiled softly at her daughter. "I'm a little bothered by the secrecy, yes, but I know that they'll tell us what they are doing when they're ready. I trust James, fully. Do you trust Graham?"

Emma gaped at that, of course she trusted Graham, right? In the week since her last therapy session they had gone on three other dates. Graham had hunted down an apartment, claiming that it had been the same one he had lived in before, and had long since moved in. A smile crossed her lips as she remembered her first time in his apartment, taking in the way he had decorated it. "Yeah, I do."

Snow smiled softly, "I thought so. Then there is nothing to worry about. Now, lunch will be finished in a few minutes, are you hungry?"

Emma nodded, "When am I not hungry?" She raised her eyebrow slightly.

Snow chuckled, "Point taken." Snow turned toward the stove to finish working on the homemade tomato soup she had been working on when an idea hit her. "Hey, Emma." She craned her neck to glance at her daughter. Noting that she had Emma's attention she continued. "Henry's birthday is in a couple of days. I was wondering if you wanted to throw him a birthday party?"

Emma stared at Snow for a moment, her stomach dropped at the fact that she didn't even know her own son's birthday. Slowly, she nodded and mumbled a thanks.

* * *

Henry burst into the apartment, a smile on his face. He eyed the apartment carefully before high fiving James. "I can't believe it's almost finished. I really hope it works!"

James grinned at his grandson, before ruffling his hair. "Me too, Henry. Either way, Emma will appreciate the gesture."

Henry's head bobbed in agreement. His mouth hung open as he started to speak.

"Oh, it is about time." Emma's voice drifted from the couch.

Henry and James looked each other conspiratorially, with Henry's face drawn in worry.

"Hi, Emma. I didn't think you were home," Henry whispered softly, turning toward his mother.

Emma shrugged, as she pulled herself up off the couch. "I wasn't going to be. Snow and I were going to go out, since you boys were spending so much time together, but I fell asleep. She woke me up like an hour ago and asked if I still wanted to go and I told her no."

"So, you were asleep when we came in?" Henry asked, his teeth assaulting his bottom lip.

Emma nodded, as she stretched the kinks from her back. "Yeah, by the way, that thing is horrible to sleep on. I will never understand how Graham was able to do it for so long."

James chuckled, as Henry breathed a sigh of relief. Emma finding out his plan before he was ready to unveil it was simply not part of the plan. In fact, he didn't plan on unveiling it until he found out if it would work or not. It was almost time. James had insisted that it would be ready by dinnertime tomorrow. Henry knew that he owed his grandfather and Graham big time for all their help with his plan. Graham had been a little weary about Henry's plan, until James explained how he regained his memory after spotting a windmill that had been his own. Granted the memories were planted by Regina as part of the curse, but James was certain it could work just as well for Emma.

Either way, Henry had already decided that it wouldn't hurt to try it his way. It couldn't make Emma any worse.

"His back has been bothering him a bit."

Emma groaned, "I feel like that's my fault. I all but begged him to stay here."

James shook his head, "He would have done it anyway. He told me how hard those first few months were, how he wanted to be there for you."

Emma smiled softly, "Graham's been great this entire time. Most any other guy probably would have already run in the other direction, what with my changing moods."

James nodded, "I don't think I can disagree with that." James noticed how Emma kept looking at Henry with those motherly eyes. It was the same way he always caught Snow looking at Emma. Clearing his throat, he made sure he had both of their attention. "I'm going to take a shower and then I'll cook something for dinner. Is that alright?"

Emma nodded, as Henry simply shrugged. With a wave, James disappeared in his shared room. Emma turned her attention to Henry.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Henry nodded, fighting against the yawn that threatened to break out on his face. "Think you can make it up the stairs?"

"Of course." Henry rolled his eyes as he started up the stairs.

Emma chuckled, as she followed him up the stairs. Once they were in their bedroom, Emma took a seat next to Henry on the bed. She fingered the hem of her shirt for a moment.

"Henry, I know that the past week and a half have been hard on you, and I'm sorry for that. I really am. If I could stop the nightmares, I would."

Henry put a hand on her arm, forcing her to look at him. In that moment, Henry looked much older than his nearly eleven-year-old self. "It's okay, mom." Henry was barely able to keep the grimace off his face as he waited to see how she took to the word. When she merely smiled at him, he continued on. "I know it's not your fault. You didn't ask for this, and I know that you don't mean to let it all hurt me. I just wish I could help you."

Emma nodded for a moment as she took in her young son's words. "You are very perceptive, Henry." Her eyebrow creased, as she smiled.

He shrugged, "I get it from you."

Emma chuckled lightly at his bluntness, before sighing. "Snow told me that you have a birthday coming up." In the moment that the words fell from Snow's lips, Emma had felt at her most incomptent. Granted, she had an actual reason to not remember his birthday, that didn't make her feel like any less of a failure.

Henry grinned at her, "Yeah, two days from now. Why, are you planning something?" His eyes lit up at the question, though his expression gave way that he didn't expect a truthful answer.

"I don't know, possibly. Would you like a party?" Emma asked.

Henry shrugged softly, "Sure. Truthfully though, I'm just happy to be spending it with my family. Anything extra is just like an added bonus."

Emma didn't fight the smile that graced her lips, "Well then, I guess we'll have to wait and see what happens then." She winked at him, before putting her arm around his shoulders.

"Hey, Emma, did you know that you have a superpower?" He asked, conspiratorially.

Emma laughed, and shook her head. "A superpower? What am I, a superhero?"

Henry nudged her shoulder with his own, "No, but you have the ability to tell when people are lying. It's almost scary how accurate you generally are. Almost always spot on."

Emma thought on what Henry said for a moment as a thought came to her. "So, what have you and James been up to lately?"

Henry's mouth open and closed a few times, before an appropriate lie came to him. "He's been teaching me how to ride a horse. Apparently him and Grandma have a few horses from their land that they have at the stables."

Emma scrutinized Henry's face as he spoke, and suddenly realized what he meant by her having a superpower. She didn't know why, but he was lying to her. "Did you just lie to me?" Her voice didn't raise, she was more shocked that he would actually attempt it after explaining her superpower to her.

He bit his lip, before shaking his head. "Maybe your superpower isn't working right, you know, because of your memory." He hopped up off the bed. "I'm going to see if Grandpa needs some help."

Emma didn't understand why, but Henry was lying to her, and not well. Even without her so-called superpower, she would have been able to pick up on his lies. It was in that instant that she was starting to lose her faith and trust in James and Graham.

* * *

Graham groaned and stretched the kinks from his back as he lifted himself out of his bed. The knocking that had roused him from the semi-deep sleep that he had been enjoying was growing more insistent. Scratching at his head, he tried to remember if he had forgotten to do something. He came up empty, since he firmly remembered not making plans so that he could get a good night's sleep. Stumbling through his small apartment, he tried to think through the fogginess of his mind of who could be at his door.

A harder knock forced him to call out, "Coming!" He grumbled lightly under his breath as his toe smashed against the leg of one of the tables that had come with the already furnished apartment. He reached the door and pulled it opened swiftly.

Graham woke up quickly at the sight in front of him. He swallowed thickly, knowing that he was in trouble for something, though it was escaping him what exactly he was in trouble for. Emma stood in front of him, her hands on her hips with one eyebrow cocked.

Smiling softly, trying to break the tension, Graham swept his hand, gesturing for her to come in. "Please, come in, Emma."

Emma stalked inside and waited until the door was closed before turning on her heel to face Graham. "Spill! What have you been up to? I want to know!"

She had cornered James in the kitchen after he sent Henry to the bathroom to wash up for dinner. She had attempted to pry the information from her father, but he had come up with the same lame excuse as Henry. Something about horses, and how Henry needed to be taught to be a proper prince and knight. Most of it went over her head, when she realized that he was only echoing Henry's lie from earlier. Though James appeared to be better equipped to hide the fact that he was lying, Emma still knew it to be the truth. Obviously, she could have called James out on lying, but as she saw with Henry, he would have just formulated some lame response about her memory loss. That left the last member of their group, and Emma knew out of the three of them that Graham would be most likely to actually come forward with the truth.

Graham backed up slightly, "I'm not entitled to divulge that information." It was the statement that Henry had explained that he was to use if Emma tried to extract information from him. However, the look on Emma's face told him that statement was not going to make due. She was beyond angry, she was pissed and…Graham's face lit up. She wasn't angry, not as much as she wanted Graham to think she was. Emma was worried, which caused his lips to turn up at the corners.

"You will damn well tell me what I want to know, Graham." Emma stalked forward, her hand on his chest as she slowly backed him against the wall.

"Emma, you forget that I know how to read your moods," Graham swallowed, fearing he might have misread her eyes, but stood tall anyway. It was too late to turn back now. "You're not as angry as you want me to think you are. You're worried."

Emma glowered at him, "No, Graham, I am pissed! Everyone keeps being all secretive, not to mention the fact that Henry and James both flat out lied to me.. Now, you will tell me what I want to know, or we are going to have a very big problem. Do—you—understand—me?" She broke the sentence down to ensure that he understood just how very upset she was by all of this. Not that he was wrong about her being worried, but he didn't need to know that. What he needed to know was that she was sick of everyone disappearing and lying about where they've been all day.

"I really can't say, Emma. This is Henry's place to talk to you about. It was his idea, and that's I all I can say."

At that, Emma's eyebrows quirked. She read his face carefully and noted quickly that he wasn't lying. Emma also saw a bit of defiance in his eyes. He wouldn't betray Henry's trust, and there was something so unbelievably amazing about that. She had seen a few times, the length of Graham's ability to care for and about Henry. It almost seemed as if Graham loved Henry. She sighed, realizing that she wasn't getting any further information from Graham.

"Well, thank you for being at least a little honest with me. It's more than I can say about my _family_." Emma ran her fingers through her hair, before looking at him. "Just answer me one question, do I have a reason to worry?"

Graham noticed that the storm had passed, as he pulled himself up from the wall. Walking the short distance to Emma, he placed a hand against her cheek. "Not one bit. As long as James and I are with Henry, then he is safe. We would never let anything happen to him."

Emma smiled softly at him, before leaning into his hand. "Thank you."

Graham's lips lifted in a crooked, half-smile. "What for?"

Emma placed a hand against his cheek as her thumb grazed against the stubble that lay there, "For being amazing. For always being there, and for keeping an eye on my son."

Graham nodded softly, "You're welcome. Henry and I, we go way back. He is a special kid, and he will always hold a place in my heart."

Emma stared into Graham's eyes as he spoke. She barely noticed how she kept leaning in closer to him until their lips met. It was soft, almost like a whisper, a simple brush of the lips. He broke away quickly, not wanting to push her. It was as he pulled away that he saw the look in her eyes. It was the same look that she had that night in the station—a mixture of awe, utter trust, and lust. Graham felt his heart speed up as she leaned again. Her body pressed flush against his as her lips crushed against his. It was passionate and hungry, and he never wanted it to end. Her hands gripped the collar of his shirt as she back peddled toward his bedroom. As they stepped over the threshold, he pulled away again.

She grunted in disapproval, as he stared at her. He panted softly, "Are you sure?" he asked, and she nodded. Slowly, carefully, he laid her down on the bed. Graham had never thought he had been so happy as he was in that moment.


	14. Chapter 14

_**A/N:** _Second to the last chapter, I hope you all enjoy this. I LOVED writing it, and I absolutely love the way it came out. I've had so much fun writing this, and working with Emma. She is a tough cookie to crack, but so much fun to write.

* * *

"Henry!" Emma called, as he dragged her down the stairs. "Slow down. Where's the fire, kid?"

Henry chuckled lightly, as his feet hit the landing. He groaned as he waited for Emma to finish up the last few stairs, and join him on the ground floor of the building. "We have to be back in time for my party, Emma."

Sighing, Emma rolled her eyes. Of course he had figured out that she and Snow had planned him a party. "How did you know?"

Henry shrugged. "Hushed conversations on the phone. Ones that you would abruptly hang up whenever I came into the room," he ticked up one finger, "hushed whispering coming from grandpa and grandma's room." he ticked up a second finger. "And then yesterday when I came down the stairs? I may have been listening from the top of the stairs for a little while."

Emma chuckled at Henry's reasoning. "So, we can't plan you a secret birthday party, but you can keep a secret from me for almost a week?" She raised her eyebrows considerably as she waited for his answer.

"Well, it's no secret that today is my birthday. Next time, have the party either before or after my birthday. Much more surprising, plus my secret is much more important than a birthday party."

Emma shook her head, as she followed Henry toward what had been described as her pride and joy. Her nose wrinkled as she took in the beat up, yellow bug, again. She hadn't yet understood why the ugly, old thing was her 'pride and joy', and Snow had no further details for her on the subject. Slowly she walked around to the driver's side as Henry climbed into the passenger-side seat. Once she crawled into the car, she pulled her seatbelt on and looked over toward Henry to ensure that he had his seatbelt buckled as well.

"So, where to?"

Henry smiled a toothy grin, as excitement overtook him. He couldn't believe it was time, and the greatest gift he could be given on his birthday was for Emma to remember. "Just head out straight, and head for the coast."

Emma eyed Henry, before shrugging. She had been driven around Storybrooke enough to at least know how to get to the small, sandy beach. Though she didn't know what Henry had been doing out there that would need to be kept a secret. She did as she was told, and headed straight. Emma wasn't entirely sure what she was about to get herself into, but from the grin on Henry's face, he assumed it would be life-affirming.

* * *

Emma took a deep breath as she followed Henry up the rest of the gravel road. She could almost see the sandy beach from their current vantage point, but something large was blocking most of her view. Her eyes squinted as she attempted to figure out what she was looking at. The closer they got, the clearer it became until she realized that she was looking at a large castle play area. It looked nearly brand new. Emma's eyes scrunched up at the corners, as she turned a confused gaze to Henry.

"Did you have the guys help you build this castle?"

Henry sighed. Archie had said that it could take time for her memory to come back—if it was even going to work right. "Yeah. Do you remember it?" he asked, a hopefulness in his tone.

Emma peered back at the castle. She stared at it long and hard before looking back at Henry. "No, Henry. Sorry."

His lip puckered out slightly, he tried to hide the disappointment. He kicked at the sand, trying to stop the wetness growing in his eyes from slipping down his cheeks. "It's not your fault. It was a stupid plan. I never should have gotten my hopes up."

Henry waited a beat, expecting Emma to give him this big lecture—for her to try and reaffirm his hope, or at least apologize again. Instead, all he heard was a loud, audible gasp. He looked up, and saw Emma's eyes were unfocused. His brow furrowed as he examined her.

* * *

Emma stared at the castle as Henry's words flowed from his mouth. She felt bad, and according to him, she should remember this castle. It didn't make sense as to why she should remember it, if James and Graham had only built it over the past week. Emma blinked, once, twice, three times. There was something there, just out of her grasp. Focusing, Emma shut her eyes and tried to retrieve what was there. After a couple of minutes it hit her like a ton of bricks. Her eyes snapped open, but everything was out of focus. She was no longer seeing what was in front of her. It was images, not still ones and not grainy film either. It was bright and vibrant.

It was all coming at her so fast. It was like she was watching her life story on fast forward. Nothing stuck with her too long before the next wave of memories came rushing through. Her legs started to shake, and she could feel them starting to buckle. There was nothing she could do to stop her downward tumble. She knew that she should be in pain, but she was far too stuck in her memories to feel anything besides elated. She felt someone sit down beside her and grab her hand. Emma just knew that it was Henry.

Suddenly she was there. It was nearly a year ago, and she was sitting on a rock on the outskirts of Storybrooke. Her body was convulsing with the freezing cold air, as the snow fell around her. It was almost like she was seeing it for the first time, like she was a spectator on the outside looking in. She watched as her father pulled up beside her. Running over, checking her over, talking to her and soothing her softly. Helping her into the truck and pulling off.

Emma's heart constricted uncomfortably as the scene changed quickly. She was in the library, her father was unconscious on the floor. Henry was crying, screaming, and Emma felt helpless. Absolutely, one-hundred percent helpless. She helped her son as best as she could, before helping her mother. It was quick. The gunshot was loud, booming, that much she did remember. The pain was unforgettable. Like fire burning deep within her, and tears pressed against her eyes.

Finally the memories started to slow until finally they came to halt, and she could see everything clearly now. It was like an enormous weight had been lifted off of her. Everything was lighter, brighter, and just a bit happier now. With a smile etched on her face, Emma turned toward Henry.

"Thank you." She hadn't even realized that tears were flowing down her cheeks, until he reached up and brushed some away with his thumb.

"You remember?" He questioned, his voice low, for fear of hoping too much.

Emma ran a hand against her face, catching the rest of the tears and wiping them away. "I do, Henry, all because of you. You never gave up on me, no matter how scary it got. I love you so much, kid."

Henry's smile mirrored his mother's as he leapt at her, his arms wrapping tightly around her midsection. "I love you too, mom." He relished the feeling of the word seeping from his lips without fear that she would freak out.

She squeezed him back, and kissed the top of his head. Emma wanted nothing more than to sit there in sand with Henry, holding him close and relishing in the fact that she actually knew who he was. However, they had a party to get to, and Emma would be forever grateful that she remembered in time to see her son turn eleven. She had missed ten birthdays, and she had vowed to never miss another one, so long as she was alive.

"This is nice, kid, but we need to head back. Snow'll be mad if we're late for your party."

Henry grinned, "Oh, all right, but there is no greater gift that I could receive than you remembering."

Emma felt tears burn against her eyelids. She closed her eyes, and breathed deeply to keep them in place. "There is no greater gift that I could have received either, kid." She pressed another kiss to the top of his head, before standing up. "That said, Snow will kill us if we're late. So, we better head back."

* * *

Emma felt her palms grow sweaty as her stomach started to tumble uncomfortably. Nervousness overtook her, as Henry reached out and shoved the door open. The lights in the apartment had been shut off. The drapes had been pulled tightly closed as they walked into the room. She could hear Henry trying to suppress a giggle, as Emma reached for the light switch. It was a discussion they had shared on their way back to the apartment. He was to act as if he had no prior knowledge of the party, and jump and act surprised when everyone yelled out. They had tried to rehearse his surprised face, but Emma realized after a couple of attempts that it would most likely fall flat. The kid was many things but a great actor he was not.

With one final deep breath, Emma flipped the switch as all their friends and family popped up from various locations, all yelling surprise.

Henry jumped, his fingers to his mouth as he squealed out in surprise. It was much more impressive than what he had showed her in the car, and she just hoped that it was enough to appease Snow. Emma stood at Henry's side as Snow and James stalked forward.

"How is the birthday boy?" James asked, as he knelt down in front of his grandson.

Henry tilted his head toward Emma, as if asking permission to give them the news. With a firm nod, he smiled brightly as he leaned forward. His mouth close to James' ear, "It worked."

James' eyes widened, as he slowly rocked back on his heels and pulled himself back to his full height. He looked at Emma for confirmation, causing her to smile and nod. With no further thought or explanation, James reached out and pulled Emma into a hug.

Snow gasped, waiting for Emma to shrink away from the affection. Instead, she saw Emma reciprocate the hug with a smile on her face and tears in her eyes. It was then that she saw it. It wasn't a huge difference, she had always been Emma after all, but it was a slight difference. Her blue eyes weren't quite as dull, and though her eyes were circled with deep purple marks from her lack of sleep, her face seemed to almost radiate with happiness.

Emma pulled away from James' embrace, and looked at her mother. Snow's eyebrows raised expectantly, silently asking her a question, and waited for an answer. Emma merely nodded, the smile never leaving her face. Snow nearly squealed with joy, as she lent forward, and pulled Emma against her. Though Emma reciprocated the embrace fully, she chuckled before speaking, "Uh, mom, Emma can't breathe."

Snow chuckled, as her heart leapt with happiness at hearing Emma call her mom, again. It was something that she had missed dearly. "I can't believe it, you really remember?"

Emma nodded, "I do, but today is Henry's day. We can celebrate the fact that I know who you are tomorrow."

Henry clicked his tongue, and shook his head, "Nuh uh! I am willing to share my party. This is huge, and you deserve a celebration for all your hard work."

Emma smiled at her son. Her heart filled with joy. "Okay, kid." Emma agreed.

Suddenly, she felt a pair of arms slip around her waist, and she didn't have to turn around to see who it was. She knew the moment his arms wound around her midsection. Leaning her head back against his chest, she felt him brush a kiss against the top of her head.

"I hear celebration is in order." His voice was husky, and thick with his Irish lilt.

"No thanks to you."

Graham's chin settled against her shoulder, and she could feel his smile against her cheek. "All in a day's work, milady."

Emma shook her head, and rolled her eyes. "Glad to see you're as cheesy as ever."

Graham shrugged softly, "It's who I am, Emma Swan. Learn to love it."

Emma turned slightly in his embrace and looked at him, "Oh, I learned to love it long ago, Graham Humbert. I was just really good at faking it."

Graham thrust a hand over his heart, as a playful smile tugged at his lips, "You've wounded me, Emma."

Emma swatted at him playfully, before leaning back in his arms. She had never been a hopefully, cheesy person before. Never once did she ever think that her life would have a happy ending, mostly because she never dreamed that she deserved one. Emma had always believed that she had done something wrong that had forever pissed off the karma god, and that she was doomed to live a life of minor unhappiness. Until the day that Henry had shown up on her doorstep in Boston and told her tales of fairy-tales. Looking around the living and kitchen of the small apartment that she shared with her parents, she knew that she would never be happier than she was right now. This, her family and friends, they were her happy ending.

* * *

_**A/N:** _I know you're thinking, that was a pretty good ending right there, why not keep it? Because I have an epilogue planned. It's something that popped into my mind a few chapters ago, and I must write it. It will be set into the future somewhat...and it will be light and fluffy (I hope!) and it will tie this story up with a nice big bow. Though, warning, it might be a little on the short side.


	15. Epilogue

_**A/N:** _A little bittersweet, but here is the epilogue. I hope you've all enjoyed reading this story. I have a few new ideas that I'm going to venture into soon, so keep your eyes open for those. As always thanks to my awesome beta, Shopowner93, she rocks! Until next time!

* * *

Emma eyes the clock on the wall. A smile crosses her lips as she takes in the time. Her finger automatically goes to the ring on her left hand. If someone would have told her that she would end up married and with a family, she would have laughed in their faces. Emma Swan was not the settling down type—at least she didn't used to be. Somewhere along the line, she started to let people in. At first it was only Henry, and it was only because he was her son. Then it was Mary Margaret, and it was only because they took care of each other. But she didn't have any words to describe why or how easy it was to let Graham in. Even if she didn't want to admit it at the time, Graham had a hold over her that very first time that they met. Between the accent, his soulful eyes, and that smile, it was a wonder that every woman in Storybrooke wasn't chasing after him.

The fact that he had chosen her out of every other eligible woman in Storybrooke was an added bonus. Every day at this time, Emma sat on the couch, eying the clock and twirling her wedding band. Sometimes it lasted the full hour until Graham returned home, and sometimes it only lasted a few minutes. That all depended on Gracie, who was nearly a year old. Emma could hardly believe it. It had been nearly two years since she had regained her memory. And almost six months to the day, Emma found out that she was pregnant with Gracie. Graham had been equal parts excited and scared. Though he did have every right, since he had grown up without a family, without anyone to take care of him.

"Hey, mom?" Henry called, as he rounded the corner into the living room.

The house that they had purchased together was small, but absolutely perfect for their small family. Emma turned toward her almost thirteen year son and smiled. Ten years, Emma had lost with him, but the past three years had been so amazing, that it felt like she had been with him his entire life.

"Yes, Henry?"

He skidded to a stop beside the couch, and Emma shook her head. She had hoped that the older he got, the less energetic he would be, but the kid practically was always bouncing off the walls.

"Grandma just called and asked if Gracie and I can stay over there tonight."

Emma's eyebrows pinched together in curiosity. Something was definitely up. Not that her parents weren't great at helping her out with the kids when she needed it, but they hadn't really ever called out of the blue asking to keep them. "Are you up to something?" Emma asked suspiciously.

Henry shook his head. "Grandma is still on the phone if you want to talk to her yourself."

Emma bit her lip to keep from chuckling. She did have to admit the older her son got the more she came to realize that Henry had inherited her attitude. Though, if Emma was being truly honest, she wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing, but it was definitely better than him having his father's personality. The idea sent a shiver down her spine. She shook her head to remove any and all thoughts of Garrett...or Bae—whichever, and stood up. Slowly, she trailed behind her son, following him into the kitchen. She picked up the phone, before smiling at Henry.

"Hey, Mom," Emma spoke softly. She nodded her head before speaking, "Yeah, I guess it's alright if you keep the kids tonight." After she said her goodbye, Emma hung up the phone. Her nose wrinkled slightly. "Something is definitely up," She whispered softly.

Before she had time to think on what exactly could be going on, Emma heard the front door open. She didn't even get a chance to make a move toward the door before Henry sprinted from the kitchen.

"Dad!" Henry yelled, before she heard Graham groan as her son collided with Graham's waist.

Emma chuckled lightly as her hand hovered over her stomach. She watched as Graham ruffled Henry's hair, before smiling at him.

"Hey, Henry. How was school?"

Henry shrugged, "Same as every other day. Nothing interesting happened."

Graham chuckled, before ruffling his hair once more. He peered over Henry's head, and smiled at his wife. "Hello, beautiful," Graham murmured. His eye glancing at Emma's slightly swollen stomach.

"Oh, ugh. If you guys are going to get mushy, then I'm packing my overnight bag." Without waiting for an answer from either adult, Henry turned around and ran toward his bedroom.

"You have something to do with this, don't you?" Emma asked, her arms crossed over chest.

Graham shrugged, "Anything is possible really. Does this seem like something I would do?"

Emma nodded, biting her lip to keep from smiling. It was really hard to pretend to be angry at Graham when her hormones only wanted her to strip him of his clothing. Her eyebrow twitched upward, as Graham moved closer.

"I know what that look means." Graham's voice grew husky, causing his Irish lilt to become even more noticeable.

"Oh yeah? What's it mean?" Emma asked, as she wound her arms around Graham's neck, letting her fingers twirl the curls at the back of his neck.

Graham's head dipped down, his lips hovering just over hers when a shriek cut through the silent air. Emma groaned loudly, as she pulled away from Graham's grip.

"We will finish this discussion, mister." Emma spoke in a commanding voice.

Graham nodded his head, "Oh, I didn't think this discussion was finished."

Emma grinned at him, before sauntering toward Gracie's room. "Hey, Gracie. Did you wake up from your nap?" Emma cooed at her daughter.

Gracie's shriek's lessened when Emma scooped her daughter up into her arms. "Momma," Gracie cooed.

Emma closed her eyes and relished the moment. The first time Gracie spoke that word, Emma had cried. Tears streamed down her face, as joy overtook her for a moment, before her tears of joy became tears of regret. Emma had been worried when she found out she was pregnant with Gracie—fearful of how Henry would take it. Of course he had been overjoyed at the prospect of having a brother or sister.

"Yeah, Gracie, Momma's here," Emma cooed as she started walking toward the door. As soon as she stepped into the hallway, Henry came out of his bedroom.

"Mom, I'm ready. Is Dad going to take us, or is Grandma picking us up?"

Emma sighed, Snow hadn't been specific, but then again, if Graham had orchestrated the whole thing then he should know what was happening. "Graham," Emma called out, as she made her way back toward the living room.

Graham had since stripped out of his patent leather jacket, and hung his belt on the coat rack. He was just putting his gun into the safe, when he turned around to look at Emma. "Yes, love?" Graham asked, a smile twitching his lips as he stared at his family.

"Is my mother picking up the kids, or are you taking them?"

Graham brought a finger to his chin and tapped it as he thought. "Well, Henry, which would you rather?"

Henry smiled brightly, "I want you to take us."

Graham peered back up at his wife, and smiled. "I guess that answers that question, then."

Emma nodded, as she pulled on Gracie's coat. After she made sure it was zipped up, Emma grabbed the extra diaper bag and dug through it before ensuring that Gracie had her favorite blanket and stuffed animal. She then piled in as many diapers that she could fit before zipping the bag back up.

"Be quick," Emma said, before kissing Graham's lips.

He nodded, "Back in a flash. You won't even know I was gone."

Emma smiled as Graham lugged their daughter, while Henry lugged his overnight bag and Gracie's diaper bag to the car. All the while still wondering what exactly Graham had planned.

* * *

Emma smiled softly at Graham who took a small bite of his grilled chicken breast. She sipped her hot chocolate before clearing her throat.

"So, let me get this straight. You planned out an almost exact replica of our first date to celebrate the two year anniversary of our first date?" Emma asked, her eyebrows pinched together as she had confused herself with her own question.

"Yes. I wanted to do something special for you tonight, and your mother helped me plan it."

Emma's forehead wrinkled, "Why tonight?"

Graham shrugged, as he wiped the corner of his mouth. He reached out a hand to grab hold of hers and smiled. "Because, Emma. That first date, two years ago...it was the first time that I actually realized that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. Prior to that night, I knew that I liked you and I knew that I wanted to examine what was between us, but that night when you let your guard down completely, and you let me in. I knew. To me, that is something to celebrate. Also, it might be one of our last chances to get out and do something together before our son is born."

Emma smiled as she squeezed Graham's hand. She had never thought that she would ever deserve so much happiness, but sitting here with her husband, looking into his pale blue eyes, she knew that along the way she had done something right.

"What did I ever do to deserve someone as amazing as you?"

Graham shrugged, "I ask myself the same question every single day. When you find an answer, please do share it with me."

Emma sighed contently, as she continued to stare at her husband. Finally, she felt like she was exactly at the place she was supposed to be. That she had finally gotten everything that she had craved as a child—A family, a place to belong. A home. Though, she did have to admit it was past anything that even her wildest dreams could have conjure up. Her parents were the fairytale couple...her husband had spared her mother's life...and technically, Emma was a princess. Only three or so years earlier, Emma would have scoffed at the thought. She had scoffed at the thought, but now she couldn't think of anything better for her life. Her family made her happy. Finally, after 31 years of searching, Emma Swan had finally found her happy ending, only it wasn't the end, it was only the beginning.


End file.
